


Fire and Fangs

by TruthandLies



Series: Fire and Fangs [1]
Category: Descendants (Disney Movies)
Genre: Ben/Mal in the beginning and mixed with lots of Evie/Mal, F/F, Magic, Origin Story, Vampire Slayer(s), Vampires, legends of Auradon, secrets of Auradon, temporary major character death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-01-17 11:23:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 55,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12364692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TruthandLies/pseuds/TruthandLies
Summary: Darkness drifts along cracked concrete, plunging the world into shadows so sharp, they open gates into another world...Mal stands on the edge of an abyss. What she thought was a peaceful world has become anything but; someone is killing in Auradon. Feeding off the innocent, leaving them littering the streets with puncture marks carved into their throats.Determined to discover the source of death, Mal disobeys the king's orders by researching Auradon legend . . . and by tapping into her dragon magic when she discovers legend may be truth.At the same time, Mal's best friend (and maybe more) is having nightmares: Vivid dreams about her own death. As the nightmares become prophecy and Mal stands to lose everything and everyone she loves, she must make a decision: Will she follow Auradon law? Or will she rise in the blaze of her own fire and battle a world she once called home?





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween! What started off as a four-chapter fic has become . . . well, a bit more epic. I plan to post a chapter once a week. (The first 3.5 are already written.) 
> 
> This means we'll probably be celebrating Halloween into the New Year. But, hey! It's an awesome holiday, so let's go for it.
> 
> * * *

**Chapter One**

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,  
But I have promises to keep,  
And miles to go before I sleep,  
And miles to go before I sleep.

\--Robert Frost

* * *

Freedom feels like fire.

The world is flashes of early morning light, the pinks and purples of an endless dawn, mixed with the warm brush of a summer breeze and a freedom so intense, Mal feels it flare like fire sparking through her heart. The heart of a dragon, pumping wild, pumping fast. Protected in her dragon form, Mal spreads her wings, soaring across the expanse of the school's rippling lake.

This. This is endless-possibility, magic-come-to-life, a-world-of-all-things-good. This is what it's like to truly live.

This is Auradon. 

There are days when she resents this place. Days when she watches the country's prissy pink princesses and perfect princes, its do-gooder citizens who seem to forget that another world exists just beyond their reach, on an island where they've imprisoned Those Who Are Not Normal. The same lost island where they once imprisoned Mal and her closest friends; her misfit family.

But she's not a prisoner any more.

No, she's free to enjoy days like this. Days when the sun rises like a ball of flame within the cobalt sky, and the treetops dance in the warm wind, and Mal's dragon-heart is full of heat. Days when she remembers: _I am here. I live in Auradon now. And no one can ever shatter this perfect world. I’d fight them if they tried._

She swoops in lazy circles around the lake, celebrating her freedom with a blast of fire, a blaze of flame jetting from her dragon-snout across the inky water. 

But the crackle of her fire mingles with another sound: the sound of bubbling laughter floating up from somewhere down below. 

Mal's wings stutter, slow. Only one person has a laugh like that. 

Her best friend has come out to play. 

With a wild snort, Mal releases another blast of scorching flame, a greeting to the girl who stands below.

“Show off,” Evie cries, her voice lively and light.

 _Am I now?_ The thought has barely formed before Mal is swooping low, low, lower still, the flare of her green dragon-eyes burning into Evie's dancing brown-eyed stare.

“C'mon, Mal.” Evie quirks her fingers. “Come and get me.” And then she skips backward, away from the water and towards the trees.

 _If you'd stay put, I would._ Mal flaps her wings faster, a plume of smoke spiraling from her nose. 

But Evie skips into the trees, her royal-blue hair vanishing behind a towering row of oaks. Her giggles are like wood sprites, playful and teasing but hidden in the forest.

Mal lands on taloned feet. Nostrils flared, she sniffs the air. Evie's close, but too far into the forest. Mal will never reach her in dragon form; the trees are too close together.

She gives a guttural growl. And imagines herself transforming back into fairy form. Imagines her lilac waves of hair, her bright green eyes, her sturdy-but-curvy build. Imagines, while she is at it, a new outfit: purple leather pants, a silk purple-and-pink shirt with wings-for-sleeves, and midnight-purple boots with six-inch kill-me-now heels.

In a puff of purple smoke, she transforms from dragon to fae. Her lips twist into a smirk; she is wearing her new outfit. _Who needs to shop when you have dragon form?_

“Oh, Evie!” She stalks to the line of trees, her voice as dangerous as her heels. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

Evie answers with her wood-sprite laugh. 

A laugh that dances across Mal's skin as if spritely feet are tapping tingles into her flesh. _Get a grip, Mal. It's just Evie._

It’s something she’s been telling herself more and more lately. Somehow, her encounters with her fellow misfit have morphed into something more. Something Mal doesn’t understand. Something she can’t understand. 

She and Evie – they’ve always danced around each other. 

On the Isle of the Lost, it was more of a break dance: Mal would twist, spin, twirl, usually wielding torture devices, and Evie would be lucky if she didn’t break. 

After they came to Auradon, it transformed into something more like hip hop: they moved to the rhythm of the world around them, never straying far from one another.

Now, it’s like a tango: sensual and forbidden.

 _And so a part of my imagination. It’s not happening. Stop overthinking things. You’re in love with Ben._ Mal shakes herself. Plants her heels into the gravel. And calls: “Stop laughing and come out already.”

“Now what would be the fun in that, M?” Evie's tone is lilting, throaty; nothing like a sprite, and everything like a wicked sorceress.

Mal growls again. Not the guttural growl of a dragon, but the try-and-hide-from-me growl of a girl possessed. She stalks into the forest, slipping past trees, sliding through shadows, sniffing the air for the apples-and-books scent of her best friend. Calling upon her dragon powers, she breathes in deep with her heightened sense of smell. But there are no apples. There are no books. “Evie! Where are you?”

“You’ll have to find me.” Evie’s cry drifts through the trees, mingling with the chirp of sparrows. And footsteps. Footsteps, muffled and fleeing.

Mal follows the sounds. Follows them until she hears another laugh. A rippling laugh that dances around a circle of trees.

Mal sniffs. This time, she smells apples and paper. Her heels cracking into the crusted dirt, she marches into the circle of oaks and ash.

Evie sits on a tree stump, leaning back on her palms, legs crossed, blue boots dangling in the air. “Took you long enough.”

Mal arches an eyebrow. “I wasn't expecting a game of hide-and-go-seek.”

With a toss of her head, Evie flips her hair over her shoulder. “Surprise.”

“Surprise.”

Evie pushes off the stump and steps across the clearing, one boot in front of the other. Slow. Sultry. Her Evie walk. When she reaches Mal, she taps her shoulder. “Tag. You're it.”

A lazy smile curls Mal's lips. She loves the way Evie walks. "Am I?"

“Yup.” Evie nods. And then her eyes widen. ”Oh.” She leans down, blowing on Mal's new shirt. “You're on fire.”

Mal's gaze flits downward, to the embers of flame crackling along the hem of her shirt. “Damn.” _A draw-back to dragon outfits: They always end up with scorch marks._ She pats her palm against the flame.

Evie swats her hand away. “You'll burn yourself.” She blows harder, and the embers spark, sizzle, fade, vanishing in a thin column of smoke.

Straightening, Evie treats Mal to a grin. “Always starting fires, aren’t you?”

Something about Evie's grin is hypnotic. It slips beneath Mal's skin, cutting off her breath. “Always putting out my flames.” _Always taking care of me._

“Somebody has to.”

 _And the tango begins._ Chewing her cheek, Mal tries to shift her attention to a spot over Evie’s shoulder. Somewhere away from the forbidden dance.

But the sun chooses that moment to bathe the clearing in light, shining its golden glow down upon the bright blue of Evie's hair. 

Evie is no longer wood sprite. No longer sorceress.

The golden glow transforms her into something more. Something otherworldly. It lights her up from the outside in. She is no mere mortal. She is a golden goddess.

A golden goddess whose only blemish is the dark half-moons stamped beneath her eyes.

Mal's hand drifts through the air. Drifts and lands on Evie's cheek, her fingers fanning across one of the half-moons. “Still not sleeping?”

“Not so much.” Evie clasps her fingers around Mal's wrist, holding Mal's hand in place. Trapping it against her silken skin. “Thought I'd come see if I could get a big bad dragon to protect me from the things that go bump in the night.”

“Yeah. I mean, of course. I mean, I'm always...” The sun shifts higher. Shifts so that it is shining upon the golden ring wrapped around Mal's finger. _Ben's ring._

She's touching Evie's cheek. Touching it like she's trying to memorize the silk-and-cream texture. All while Ben's ring is warm against her finger. _What are you doing, Mal?_

Wincing, she tugs her wrist from Evie's grip. And drops her hand. It falls heavy to her side. “We should get back to the school. Classes start soon.”

Evie's gaze flutters to the ground. “Yeah." She scuffs the dirt with the toe of her boot. "We don't want to be late.”

"Right, yeah. Wouldn't want that." 

Side-by-side, they leave the clearing, crunching through dirt and leaves, looking here-there-anywhere-but-at-each-other.

The forest thins; the trees grow sparser. They cross a rainbow bridge spanning over a stream, which gurgles across round rocks. Their boots beat in tandem against the wooden planks. 

In tandem, but different. 

Evie’s boots clackity-clack-clack. Mal’s boots boom-boom-boom. Together, the sounds create a melody.

Mal listens to their song, and a fist of guilt squeezes around her chest. Her gaze drifts out over the trickling water, to the school beyond. Ben should be there by now. Preparing for classes. Her boyfriend. The boy who she’s promised her heart. 

_So why is it that I can't stop thinking about the way Evie looks when she stands in the sunlight? The way it feels when I touch her face? The way_ I _feel when she touches my hand?_ She casts a side-long glance at Evie.

Evie's frowning at the rocks. Frowning as if she's solving the world's most difficult equation.

But her skin still glows.

And sunlight still dances across her face, spinning magic through her eyes. 

“E?” The nickname falls from Mal’s lips.

“Yeah?”

“Do you ever wonder about true love?” Mal trails her hand along the bridge's railing, wincing when a splinter pricks her flesh. Not wanting to deal with the injury, she shoves her hand into a pocket. “You know, like, what does it mean? Do we only have one true love or many? Can any kind of relationship become true love? Like friendship?”

The questions gurgle up like the water in the brook, ceaseless and neverending. They've been forming for a while. Forming ever since Mal broke a love spell a sea witch had cast on Ben. Broke it with true love's kiss.

Mal stops walking when she realizes Evie's clackity-clack-clack has stopped, too.

Her best friend stands across from her, halfway down the bridge, a hesitant half-smile on her lips and lightning in her eyes. “Don't tell me you're under a curse, M.”

“A curse?”

“Well, the only way to test true love is with a kiss. One that breaks a curse.” She curls her fingers around Mal’s wrist. Slips Mal’s injured hand from her pocket.

“Oh.” Mal nods, staring at her hand. “Right. A curse.”

Evie’s touch is static-and-satin, intensifying as she worries Mal’s splinter beneath her fingernail. 

“I mean, without a curse, we have no way of testing things. No way of knowing if friendship counts as true love.” The splinter slides from Mal’s fingertip, and Evie flashes a triumphant smile. "No way to answer any of your questions really."

"Yeah." A drop of blood forms upon Mal’s skin. She pulls her hand away to wipe it off.

But Evie tugs her back, holding her hand hostage. She locks eyes with Mal, a question burning in her gaze. “And no reason for me to kiss you,” she says, slipping Mal's fingertip into her mouth. Dabbing at the blood with her warm, wet tongue.

Mal bites back a moan. “Kiss me?”

Evie winks. 

A wink that is both impish and playful.

The type of wink she gives Mal during boring classroom lectures or when the Auradon kids become too goody-goody.

The one that says you-and-I-both-know-this-is-a-joke-but-we’ll-pretend-it-isn't-anyway.

But a hint of red colors Evie’s cheeks. And when she pulls Mal’s finger from her mouth, she begins rubbing thumb-circles onto the back of Mal's hand. "Kiss you."

Mal's mind flails, chokes, dies, before sputtering back to life with a list of curses she's read in her spellbook. 

_Sleeping curse?_

_No, too permanent._

_Poison apple curse?_

_No, too deadly._

_Love spell?_

_Has potential._

And she doesn't know why she's thinking of all these curses, doesn't know why they're spilling through her mind, but now she's picturing her spellbook, locked tight in the museum where all magical relics are imprisoned, and wondering why she was so quick to give it to Fairy Godmother. How would she go about getting it back? 

She's just settled on breaking-and-entering when a dozen screams rip through the peace of the woods, shattering the silence. 

Screams terrified and horror-stricken and coming from the school.

Screams unlike any Mal has ever heard in Auradon.

Screams that pierce into her heart like frigid swords tipped with frost, freezing her blood.

Evie stumbles forward, her eyes no longer teasing but blown wide.

“Come on, E.” Mal tugs at her hand. Fingers linked, they rush across the bridge, through the line of trees, to the school, the clackity-clack-clacks and boom-boom-booms of their boots transforming into something louder, something deafening.

When they reach the school, they tear through the gates, leaving the metallic doorways clinking in the wind. They streak across the dew-misted grass, following the screams. So many screams. Screams which distort into shrieks and cripple into sobs.

A crowd of students staggers together in shock, huddled in an alleyway. Clustered between buildings so tall, the sun cannot shine through. There are strangers – so many strangers – and then there are Mal’s friends. Jay. Carlos. Jane. Lonnie. Their bodies bowed, their features twisted in grief. 

Blood thunders through Mal’s ears. “Jay! What’s going on?” 

There are shadows in Jay’s eyes. “She just.” He tugs at his hair. “Found him. Like that. They say.” He swallows so hard, his Adam’s apple throbs. “A wild animal. Or a rake. But how could it have been a rake?”

Mal shakes her head. “I don’t understand what you’re saying. What’s happening?”

“I…” But Jay is already returning his shadow-stare to the alleyway, angling his head to peek around the crowd. 

Mal growls, the guttural growl of the dragon, and squeezes Evie’s hand. “Stay here, E. Take care of the boys.” She untangles their fingers.

Evie grabs her wrist. “Mal, wait. Where are you going?” There’s an urgency in her voice. An urgency Mal has only ever heard Evie use in the wake of her nightmares. 

Mal cups Evie’s hand. “It’s gonna be okay. I’m just taking a look. I’m not going anywhere.”

Evie sinks her teeth into her lower lip. But she releases Mal’s wrist. “Be careful.”

“I promise.”

And then she leaves Evie. Leaves her to take care of their friends. Carlos, whose freckles pop out against his skin. Lonnie, who stares into nothingness through glassy eyes. Jane, whose mouth is torn open in a silent scream.

Mal twists and turns through the crowd, clasping Carlos’ shoulder, cringing when he jumps. “Sorry,” she murmurs, but her voice is lost among the cries and the sobs.

She shoulders her way to the front, elbowing people when she must, stopping only when she stands at crowd’s edge.

It is the edge of an abyss.

Darkness drifts along cracked concrete, plunging the world into shadows so sharp, they open gates into another world. A world concocted of the copper stench of blood and the sting of bile burning Mal’s throat. A world where a body lays crumpled on the concrete, staring upward into a sunless sky.

In life, Chad Charming had been many things. A gifted athlete, rumored to spend three hours a day sculpting his chest. A devoted son, who visited his parents’ castle every Sunday. A fashonisto. A collector of action figures. A terrible student, but well-liked by many of his peers.

In death, he is miniscule. A shriveled corpse, his body splayed at odd angles. Pale. Drained of blood.

Mal’s heart is a wild thing, clawing at her chest. She scans Chad’s body, scans it with eyes that skitter and dart.

But his body is whole. Unbroken. There is no sign of trauma. No indication that some weapon cut through Chad’s flesh, stealing the life from his body, the blood from his corpse.

And then Mal’s untamed gaze darts to Chad’s neck. And lands on the puncture marks carved into his pale-death throat.

Two tiny swollen wounds.

Two tiny crimson holes. 

Imprints. Imprints carved by something like teeth. Something like fangs.

Imprints dripping with the remains of Chad’s blood.

Bile burns Mal's throat. Her world breaks open. _Someone fed on him._ It is the only explanation. The only reason for his wounds. _Someone fed on Chad._ Bending at the waist, she begins to retch.


	2. Chapter Two

* * *

****

**True Love [troo luhv, n.]** : Pure and tender affection arising from passion and/or kinship, capable of breaking the greatest of curses. Not to be confused with soul bond.

-Auradonian Primer

* * *

The world is shattered into fractured silence. Silence so deafening, it steals Mal’s breath and swallows her heartbeat, leaving her gasping for air. 

_Someone fed on Chad._ She clutches her stomach in a dry heave, but all she tastes is bile and all she feels is numb. _Someone sucked his blood._

She is standing on the mouth of a chasm; a chasm in which her swallowed heartbeat pulses through her ears. Ta-tump. Ta-tump. Ta-tump.

Reality is fantasy. _Someone is killing in Auradon._ And fantasy is all too real. _Someone monstrous is murdering kids._ Chills crawl across Mal’s skin, pricking her flesh with goose bumps.

It’s all a dream. A crazy dream.

A dream like the dream Evie has dreamed so many times before. 

_No._ Mal’s chest rises and falls, rises and falls, an explosion of breath. _No. Evie’s dreams are not real._

She pushes the memories from her mind, eclipsing them with emptiness. She will not think about Evie’s dreams. She will not focus on anything but this new reality, this new world spiraling into chaos.

Fairy Godmother rushes across the expanse of concrete, dead things ghosting through her gaze. A gaze that skitters across the crowd of students, that takes in their trembling, their tears, their screams. A gaze that turns liquid, that pools with pain, before latching onto the school guards.

The guards have followed her through this shadow-world, this dark abyss, and now stand around Chad. The boy who has forgotten how to breathe.

Fairy Godmother calls the guards to her side. Points at the students. Makes sweeping motions with her hands. Words fall from her lips.

Mal cannot hear them.

There is no place for words in a nightmare world without sound.

The guards raise bull horns. Push into the crowd of students, who shuffle back, away from the body, toward the dorms.

Mal sidesteps the guards. She cannot follow her friends. Her feet are nailed to the coffin of concrete.

Fairy Godmother crumples to her knees. Smoothes her fingers over Chad’s eyes, closing them to the world he can no longer see. Tears sprinkle from the headmistress’s cheeks onto Chad’s matted blond curls. Annointing the boy with her pain.

 _Does she know?_ Mal lifts her feet. Moves them. Lurches toward the headmistress. _Does she know that someone sucked his blood? That Auradon is under attack by fantasy-come-real?_

She has to tell her. 

Has to make her see: Auradon is no longer safe.

Has to convince her: They have to prepare. They have to fight. Fight whatever or whoever thought they could repaint their world with colors stolen from the pages of a frightening fairy tale.

They have to protect their friends.

Mal is seconds away from Fairy Godmother when time stops. 

She is snared around the middle. 

Snared by something long and muscular. An arm.

An arm that pulls her back against a solid, unyielding chest.

With a strangled cry, Mal bends over the arm and jabs her elbow upward. Again. Again. Again. Striking bone.

“M!” Sound. Re-entering her world. A husky, tear-choked voice. “M, it’s Ben! Stop attacking him.” 

A voice that slips inside Mal’s hollow, heartless chest, filling it with the heated thump of her own heartbeat. “Evie?”

“It’s me.” Evie darts into sight. She wears a fierce frown that amplifies the pain cutting through her eyes. “And Ben. You’re hurting him.”

The tension seeps from Mal’s muscles. “Ben?”

“Right here.” Ben’s mouth is against her ear. “Calm down, Mal.” It is his arm hugging Mal’s middle. 

She melts into his chest, her edges blurring into his lines.

“Promise to stop fighting me?” he says, his voice steady and strong.

“I promise.”

“Then I’ll let you go.” He releases his arm. 

Mal staggers forward. Stops. Turns to face her boyfriend.

His brown hair is disheveled. His eyes are bloodshot. His sweater is rumpled. And there are two crimson bruises marring his jaw.

She touches two fingers to his injuries. “I’m so sorry, Ben. About Chad. About this.”

“It’s okay.” He is wild and unkempt. But he gazes at Mal with an unwavering, love-stained stare. “I know you’d never hurt me.”

Mal cringes. Guilt twists through her gut. _The bruises. The bruises. The bruises and Evie and a tryst in the woods and an almost kiss._ Evie, who stands so close by, Mal clings to the sound of her breath for comfort in this newfound darkness.

But first there is Ben. The boy she has hurt.

Mal lifts on tiptoes to graze his bruises with a kiss. "You give me too much credit."

Ben catches her hand. Threads their fingers. "Do I?"

"Yes." Mal closes her eyes. Just for a moment. A moment of emptiness.

Ben touches their foreheads together.

Touches their foreheads together like Evie touches their foreheads together. _Evie._

Mal's eyes spring open. She removes her forehead from Ben's. Searches for a different face, for Evie's delicate features.

Finds them hidden beneath a wave of Evie's blue hair, cascading over her face, which is tipped so that she is staring at her boots. 

“Well, I’m going to head back to the dorms.” Evie's tone is heavy with husk. Her shoulders are shaking and turned away from the body.

Away from the body, which Fairy Godmother is shrouding in white.

Chad is a corpse. A corpse buried by a sheet.

"I'm so sorry about Chad, Ben." Evie continues, her voice catching, thick with unshed tears. "About Chad and ..." She glances up. Her gaze trips to Mal, then settles on Ben. "About everything else."

 _Everything else?_

Evie returns her gaze to the concrete. And backs away.

"Evie, wait." Mal takes two steps. Two steps closer to the girl who has turned her back, who is moving too quickly to be caught.

But Mal's hand is trapped in Ben’s grip. She’s stuck to his side. 

And Evie turns a corner, vanishing into the school.

“You should go back into the dorms, too, Mal.” Ben’s voice is hollow, wooden. “You don’t need to be here for this.”

 _This._ This being a corpse. This being Chad. This being death. Acid burns Mal’s throat. _What am I doing?_ She is launched back into the midnight of her nightmare. _This is the time for truth._ “Ben, did you see the marks? They’re like the worst kind of nightmare. Like some monster – ” 

“Stop.” Ben tightens his grip around her hand. “What happened to Chad . . .” His voice splinters on the name. “We don’t know what happened. But don’t go chasing legends, okay?” 

“Legends?”

“Monsters. They aren’t real, and there’s no reason to talk about them. You’ll only end up scaring half the school.”

Mal twists her hand out of Ben’s tight grip. “So what do you think happened to Chad?”

“Not sure.” He dips his head. Stares at the ground. “Could have been someone with an ice pick.”

 _An ice pick?_ “Ben.” His name is an explosion of breath. “Did you look at him? Did you see the puncture wounds? There’s no way something human did that.”

“I saw them.” His features sharpen. His face is sketched in jagged angles and lines. “But if you start talking about monsters, people will panic. As Lady of my Court, your words carry too much weight.”

Late spring has chilled to fall. A blustery wind blows through the alleyway, biting at Mal’s skin. “So what’s your plan then?” She warms her arms with frenzied strokes of her fingers. “To tell the people lies?”

“It isn’t a lie, Mal. Auradon is a protected place. And people need to believe that. They need to know they’re safe.” He tugs his fingers through his hair until it sticks up at odd angles. Tangled chaos. “We’ve just lost an Auradonian prince. If we frighten the kingdom with fables, we’ll only tear it apart.”

“Fables.” Mal stares at her boyfriend. Stares at the hardened edges of his face, at the furious arch of his eyebrows, at the jagged line of his scowl. 

Understanding is a lead weight, pressing down upon her shoulders. “You can’t accept the truth. Can you?”

Ben’s eyes slide into slits. “What I can’t accept is you holding up the murder investigation.” He waves his hand at the crime scene; at the school guards, enclosing the area in yellow tape. “A prominent Auradonian citizen – my friend – just lost his life. As my girlfriend, shouldn’t that mean something to you?”

Ice crystalizes through Mal’s chest. _Damn it, Ben._ “I'm sorry about Chad. I am.” She closes her eyes. "I'll leave you to your investigation.” She steps away. 

"Mal."

"What?"

"Don't go researching legends." His voice is forged from sharpest steel. "That's an order from your king."

 _My king?_ The ice in Mal's chest fissures. Cracks. She turns. Faces him.

Ben's eyes are empty, his stare sharpened as if by stone. He raises his chin. Raises it like he raises it when he's brokering treaties with foreign nations. Raises it like a king.

 _My king. We're really doing this._ Mal levels his stony stare with a glare cut from glass.

And does the only thing she can.

She curtsies to royalty. "Whatever you say. Honey."

Ben sighs. "Mal - "

But she's already escaping. Walking away across the cracked concrete, through the desolate alleyway, leaving Ben to oversee a murder investigation that promises to yield nothing but lies.

* * *

Gossip spreads across the school with a hiss like wild fires:

_Did you hear…?_

_Do you know…?_

_The guards think it was a wild animal…_

_King Ben said he might have fallen on an ice pick…_

_School’s on temporary lockdown…_

_Classes are cancelled for the next five days…_

The VKs huddle in Mal’s dorm room, staring-not-staring at the walls. 

Jay tenses-untenses his fist around his tourney stick. 

Carlos cuddles Dude so tight, the dog begs for breath. 

Evie sniffles, dabbing at her eyes, looking here-there-anywhere-but-at-Mal. 

Mal tries to catch Evie’s stare. Fails. Ever since Evie walked away from her while she was talking to Ben, they haven’t spoken a word. Not a word about Chad. Not a word about Ben. Not a word about what happened in the forest. _Me. Evie. My finger. Her mouth._

Guilt curves a knot through Mal’s chest. She sighs. Caught in the vortex of her best friend’s avoidant stare, she begins to pace. Clenching-unclenching her hands. Digging her fingernails so deep into her palms, she curls crescent moons into her flesh.

This was no wild animal. 

Chad didn’t fall on an ice pick. 

Someone did this.

Someone stole Chad’s life, drained the blood from his body, sucked the life force from his throat. 

_But who?_ She squeezes her eyes shut. _No, not who. What?_

The only answer is written in fables, scrawled through legends. And Ben, her boyfriend, the king of Auradon, has personally ordered Mal not to give voice to the truth. 

Their fight is a sinking stone within her chest.

Ben’s words are a dagger sharp within her mind. _As Lady of my Court, your words hold too much weight._

_Too much weight._ As Lady of his Court, she is trapped. Trapped within a title. A title as permanent as a portrait frozen in stained glass. 

Her fingernails dig deeper into her palms, stinging her skin. She longs to punch something. To make her knuckles bleed. 

Carlos shifts on Mal's bed. “Time for dinner,” he says. His voice is hoarse.

Mal stops. Stops moving. Stops thinking. Just stops. “Then let’s get something to eat.”

There are no grumbles. No incredulous stares. The others simply stand and follow.

The dining hall is silent. The other kids communicate not with voices, but with quivering hands and red-rimmed eyes.

There is the scrape of forks. The clatter of plates. The swish of untouched juice.

Jay tears apart his garlic bread, leaving it in strips.

Carlos sneaks food to Dude, who pushes it away with his nose.

Evie slips her fork into her spaghetti, rolling it in noodles, coating it in sauce. 

Mal watches Evie, her friends, the door, Evie, her friends, the hall, Evie.

Finally – finally – Evie casts a glance at Mal. A lingering look punctuated by a question mark.

Mal answers the question with a smile. A smile that feels too big, that trembles too much, but that still says _it’s okay_ and _I’m here_ and _always_.

The question in Evie’s eyes strengthens into a statement. A statement of fire and _forever_ and _the space between_.

Mal draws the look into the sketchbook of her memory. Creases the page for later reference. An endless source of all things _Evie_.

No one eats.

* * *

Two days pass.

Two days without Ben, who is busy going public with lies about wild animals and ice picks.

Two days with Evie, who jolts awake from nightmares, clinging to Mal as prophecies fall from her lips.

Two days of pacing in the dorm and not researching legends and keeping herself from punching the walls.

_(Two days of knowing she will break king's orders and find the answers to unwrite the fables, the magic to defeat the monsters. Because there is no way she will let Evie's nightmares become reality. There is no way she will allow Evie to become a corpse under a sheet.)_

Two days of muted day that turns into starless night.

On the third day, the shroud of night descends outside the dorm room window. A night so dark, the stars fail to shine. Crickets scream a chirping serenade, scattered around trees whose skeletal branches scrape against the glass.

Inside their dorm room, Mal is bundled beneath her comforter. Haunted by fragments of memory. Screams and matted blond curls. Blue lips and a bloodless corpse. 

Across the room, Evie twists in her bed. Kicks her feet. “M?”

“Hmm?” Mal murmurs against her pillow.

“It wasn’t an ice pick, was it? Or a wild animal.” Evie’s voice ghosts through the room, a wisp of sound.

“No.”

“Then what was it?”

“I don’t know, E.” _Something monstrous. Something Ben is trying to hide._

They lapse into silence. Silence so thick, the sounds of Mal’s breath seem far and in-between.

Evie rolls onto her side. “Mal?” Within Mal’s name, there hides another question.

A question Evie speaks each night.

A question Mal craves. 

A question she’s craved ever since that night three weeks earlier, when the moon bled red against the sky, and Evie jolted awake, screams tearing from her mouth, a plea burning within her eyes. _Sleep with me tonight?_

Before Evie can give voice to the question, Mal is kicking aside her sheets. Striding across the room. Climbing into Evie’s bed. “I was waiting for you to ask.”

“I didn’t.” She curls into Mal’s arms.

“You didn’t have to.” Mal breathes her in. 

Evie smells like apples and parchment, her familiar scent, and something more. 

Something salty. 

Something Mal longs to taste. 

She carves her teeth into her lower lip, trapping the temptation.

Evie burrows into Mal’s chest, tucking her head beneath Mal’s chin. “I’m such a sidekick.”

“A sidekick?” Mal pulls her closer, savoring her warmth. She is soft-curves and silken-waves and fire-burning-through-Mal’s-blood. She is Evie. All Evie.

“I’m weak. I shouldn’t do this.” Evie’s fingers waltz across Mal’s arm. “With you.”

“Do what with me?” Mal’s voice is a whisper stuck in her throat. 

“Need you. Cling to you.” She turns her face into Mal’s neck. Her heated breath is a caress against Mal’s throat. “Tease you.”

“Tease me?”

“In the woods. With the splinter.” Evie slides her fingers to the palm of Mal’s hand. Strokes the sensitive skin she finds there. “I shouldn’t have…”

 _Shouldn't have what, E? Put my finger into your mouth? Offered to kiss me?_ Mal’s lips tingle at the shadow memory. “Why did you?”

Silence. Silence stretching across breaths, scattered and shallow.

Shifting from Mal’s arms, Evie lays her head onto her pillow. “You were asking questions about true love. And I just…” She flips onto her side so that she is gazing at Mal. “I got confused.”

Mal flips onto her side, too. Flips so that she is gazing at Evie.

Evie’s eyes are filled with doubts, but something lurks beneath their surface. Something smoldering.

Mal traces her fingers along the satin skin of Evie’s cheek, beneath the scorching brown. “What are you so confused about?”

Evie traps Mal’s hand beneath her palm. “This.” She taps Mal’s fingers. “And this.” She tilts her dimpled chin toward their bodies, lying side-by-side.

“What about this?” _C’mon, Mal. You’re not that dense._

“Why do you sleep with me every night?”

Mal tips her forehead so that it rests against Evie’s. _Where it belongs._ “You’ve been having nightmares.”

“Sometimes, I don’t even have to ask.” Evie’s tone has curled into a whisper. “You climb into bed with me anyway.”

“Just trying to keep you safe.” 

“Always protecting me.” Evie rubs her nose against Mal’s.

Mal swallows a moan. “Somebody’s got to." Words. Words scattered between breaths. "And I don’t mind that you cling to me sometimes. Your nightmares are pretty awful.”

“Yeah.” Evie’s fingers pulse around Mal’s hand. “M?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you happy with Ben?” Her voice is a touch of velvet, soft and rich.

 _Ben._ Mal gazes into Evie’s eyes, their electric brown, their spark of flame, and her boyfriend’s name punches through her mind. _Ben._ The name is a mantra. A jab of guilt batting at her chest. 

_Ben._ The boy with the crowns on his shorts and the jelly donuts and the promises about love.

 _Ben._ The boy who forces her to hide, even if he does so without words. Because she cannot be lady of Ben’s court if she does not hide herself. Hide her desire to fight. Hide her desire to protect their people. _Ben._ The boy who turns his back on truth, even if truth is the only way to keep people safe.

"Ben." She murmurs his name, smoothing it across her tongue, wincing when it chafes.

The fire dims in Evie's eyes. "Ben."

 _Ben._ It hurts. Hurts to think his name. Hurts to say it. Hurts to hear it. Like sharp talons clawing through her chest.

 _Ben._ Her true love, Ben.

 _Ben. Ben. Ben._ The name is a pendulum, swinging through the darkness of her mind. A darkness plagued with uncertainty. Uncertainty wrapped in the memory of their first touch, of their first kiss. Of their first confessions of love. _Does Ben make me happy? He did. I thought he did. But does he?_

Evie closes her eyes, squeezes them tight, blocking Mal from the heat of her stare.

Mal yearns to reach over, to open those delicate eyelids, to stoke the fire in Evie's gaze.

But she is torn. Stuck again between two worlds. Her commitment to Ben. Her role as his Lady.

And the vast possibilities of admitting what she feels for Evie. 

Because she feels something for Evie.

Something more than best friendship.

Something crisp and sweet, like a plump red apple, tantalizing against her tastebuds. Something delicate and comforting, like the softest piece of satin, smooth against her skin.

 _Evie._ Mal inches closer to her best friend. _It's always Evie._ Evie’s lips are a space away. Her breath falls across Mal's face. Hot and sweet. Mal's mouth puckers with the desire to taste.

 _But what about Ben?_ Ben, the boy who thinks she could never hurt him. Who voiced this thought just that morning, as they stood over his friend's corpse.

The doubt within Mal’s mind fractures, splinters her in half.

A fissure that only deepens, cracking through her chest when Evie shifts away. Rolling onto her other side, treating Mal to a view of her back.

“It’s okay, M. I get it. You love him.” Evie curls her shoulders closer to her neck as though she is closing in on herself, cutting herself off from Mal. “You and me…” Her voice cracks. “We’re just friends.”

Without Evie, Mal is freezing. “Evie –”

“I’m really glad you’re happy. Ben's a good guy.” She curves her knees into her chest, tightening herself into a ball. “And we're just friends.”

 _Just friends._ Mal shivers from the absence of Evie. Shivers, trying to paint color onto the broken canvas of her words. _Just friends._ But there is no color in the world to cover the empty spaces of that canvas. “Just friends,” she tries the words, tasting them on her tongue. They are bitter and stale.

“Just friends.” Apparently, Evie likes their taste. She’s chewed on them three times.

“Right. Yeah. Okay.” Mal flips onto her back, attempting to solve the riddle within Evie’s words. There was _just friends_ and _you and me_ and something else. _But what?_

She twists her lips. Clearly, she took too long to respond to Evie’s question – _Are you happy with Ben?_ – but she can’t quite figure out how to reverse time, travel back to the place of impact, and change the past. _What just happened?_

Somewhere in the night, she is answered by the screech of an owl, the chirp of sparrows, the shriek of a hawk. The world swells with song.

Song that fails to penetrate the silence that has fallen inside the dorm room. A silence so unbearable, Mal forces herself to speak. “E?”

Evie thumps her head against her pillow. “Yeah?”

“Do you…” _What?_ Mal plunks her fingertips against the bedspread. _Fill in the blank, Mal._ “Do you want me to sleep in your bed tonight?”

Evie sighs. And comes undone, folding out of her tense ball. “I have a hard time sleeping without you.” She rolls over so that finally – finally – she is looking at Mal. 

There are contradictions in her gaze. It is all-things-dark-and-light, all-things-hard-and-soft, all-things-fire-and-ice.

Mal’s fingers twitch, longing to stroke Evie’s cheek, to lighten the darkness, to soften the hardness, to melt the ice. 

_No._ A voice echoes through her mind. It sounds like Mal, but then again, not. _Not until you’re sure._

She furrows her brow. _Sure about what?_

It doesn’t answer. But the bitter-stale taste of Evie’s words clings to her tongue. She never wants to chew those words again. So she clamps her twitching fingers around the bedspread. And tastes different words instead. “I’m sorry if I upset you.”

Evie stares at Mal’s chin. “I’m sorry if I confused you. I…” She breathes in deep. “I wasn’t being fair.”

“You were fine.” _I’m the one who doesn’t know the voice in my own head._

Evie lifts her gaze to meet Mal's. “Look.” The contradictions in her eyes soften and blur, replacing themselves with unreadable script. “Let’s just pretend like nothing’s changed. After Chad...” She winces. “After everything that's happened this week…” Her features twist in pain. “I just really need my best friend.”

“I’m here.” Mal’s fingers go renegade. Smooth themselves against Evie’s forehead, caressing her silken skin. “I’ve got you.” 

A small smile peeks through the clouds darkening Evie’s face. “Mind if I…?” She tilts her head to the place on Mal’s chest where she usually sleeps.

“You’d better.” Mal taps her chest.

Evie’s smile crescents into a grin. She curls into Mal’s side, burying her face in the hollow of Mal’s throat. “I don’t know how I’d sleep without you.”

“Me, neither.” Mal closes her eyes.

The room fills with the scream of crickets, the screech of owls, the chirp of sparrows, the shriek of hawks. The scratch of trees. A nighttime serenade. 

A serenade so similar to the screeching concert that took place the first night Evie woke up screaming, fear cutting through her eyes and prophecies spilling from her lips.

The louder the music, the tenser Evie becomes.

“E?” Mal nuzzles the top of Evie’s head.

Evie swallows against Mal’s throat. “My dream. Mal…” She curves her arm around Mal’s waist. “Do you think it has anything to do with what happened to Ch– ”

“No.” Mal smoothes her fingers through Evie’s hair, relishing the cool silk of her waves. Trying to forget. To forget the details Evie shared when she jolted awake after that horrible dream. _A storm-swept day._ “How could it?” _A graveyard._ “It was just a dream.” _And Evie’s name. Engraved into the corpse-cold marble of a tombstone._ “You don’t have the gift of prophecy.”

“My grandmother did.”

“Shh.” She nuzzles her best friend’s head. “Go to sleep, E. It’s been a long day. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

“What if I dream?” She does not speak the words drifting through her mind. The words Mal knows are there. _What if my dreams come true?_

It does not matter. Her dreams will not come true. Mal will never let that happen. 

Mal tightens her hold, pulling Evie closer. “I’ll be here to protect you. Whether you’re asleep or awake.”

Eventually, the tension seeps from Evie’s muscles. Her breaths dip, even. And then she is murmuring in her dreams.

Mal does not dream. She does not sleep. 

Sleep will come later.

For now, the soul-fire she forged on the Isle burns bright within her chest, her fighter’s instinct on high alert.


	3. Chapter Three

****

**Chapter Three**

* * *

There exists within our world several barriers. Barriers between worlds. Barriers between dreamstates. Barriers keeping evil from good. 

It is my sincere suggestion that you do not open them.

-King Beast, United States of Auradon, Year One 

* * *

****

****

A week after Chad’s death, Mal wakes to find Evie curled in her arms. Trembling in her dreams. A contradiction of heat and chill. 

Her hot lips press into Mal’s throat. 

Her hot breath caresses Mal’s skin. 

But her cold knuckles brush Mal’s bare shoulder, making Mal wince. 

Evie’s hands have crept from the warmth of her blankets, and clumped together into a collective fist.

Mal’s mind flashes with all the abominations Evie’s fighting in her dreams. _Monsters. Monsters and demons and death. Not on my watch._ “E?” Mal nuzzles the top of Evie’s head with her cheek. “Time to wake up now.”

Evie groans. Groans and tosses to the side, revealing the dark half-moons stamped beneath her eyelids, which are creased, sealing her into the place of her nightmares.

“Come on.” Mal smooths the creases with her fingertip. “Enough nightmares for now.” _Enough nightmares for the rest of your life. If I have to find a way to jump into your dreams myself, I’ll do it and fight your monsters for you._

Evie whimpers, shaking from side-to-side. Her eyelids flutter, but remain sealed. Closing in the phantoms flitting through her mind.

Helplessness settles over Mal like a lead weight, crushing down against her chest. She’s always been able to protect her friends. Always been able to protect Evie. _But Evie’s nightmares are so cryptic, and Ben’s keeping me from solving their code._

She’s got tombstones. Tombstones and a graveyard and rain. And nothing else. Nothing except for a death that happened a week ago, and the memory of her boyfriend’s command, given as he stared at her through hardened eyes.

Evie flails, knocking her collective fist into the air. Fighting a demon Mal cannot see.

Over the past week, her nightmares have transformed. Transformed from murmurs-and-screams into fist-fights-and-flails. She’s no longer being attacked by Death; she’s doing the attacking.

And judging by her whimpers, Death is fighting back.

_Okay. That’s it._ Mal rolls over onto her stomach. Dodging Evie’s fist, she places both of her hands on Evie’s shoulders. “Evie?” Her voice is sharp and shrill. “Time to wake up.” She shakes her.

Evie’s eyelids pop open. Her eyes are glazed. As glazed as they were last night, when she’d sprung from sleep and screamed. 

_“I had another dream.” Evie’s words were gasps, broken and rattling. “I was…” she clenched Mal’s hand. “M, I was different. I was changed.”_

_“Changed how?”_

_“I was dead.”_

Evie whimpers. “M-mal?” She trembles in Mal’s grip. “What’s going on?”

Mal tries on a smile, but it is cramped, more like a grimace. “You were dreaming.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Fighting death again, E?" Mal traces her fingers along Evie’s cheek.

Evie’s nostrils flare, as if she’s sniffing for remnants of her dreams. “Death was fighting me.”

Mal smooths tangles of damp blue from Evie’s face. “You’ve gotta give that guy directions to my fist. I’ll fight him for you.”

“I wish.” She stares at the ceiling as if she is staring into a void. Her chest rises and falls, climbs and crashes, her breathing frantic and wild.

“Breathe.” The word itself is a breath. “Breathe for me.” Mal tucks a sweat-drenched strand of blue behind Evie’s ear. “Come on.”

Evie chokes back breath, each one steadier than the last. She blinks the haze from her eyes, turning the brown a darkened shade of walnut. Soft and brittle.

Her breaths even out, less gasps and more puffs.

“That’s my girl.” Mal’s fingers linger on Evie’s cheek, where she thumbs warmth into her best friend’s skin. “Keep breathing.”

Evie draws in air, turning the puffs into breaths. “Better?”

“Much.” Mal’s fingers still, their tips resting on the curve of Evie’s face.

“Hey.” Evie catches Mal’s hand, then catches her gaze. “I just remembered.” A tentative smile curls Evie’s lips, peeking through her fear. “It’s your birthday.”

_My…_ The tension seeps from Mal’s muscles. Curls into her gut, an impatient knot. _Oh. That._ “Yeah, I guess it is.”

“Happy seventeen, M.” Evie’s voice is spun from the softest of silks. She twines her fingers with Mal’s, keeping them at her cheek.

Warmth flickers like fire beneath Mal’s fingers. Their hands are joined, just above the plumpness of Evie’s lips. And on one of Mal's hands is a golden ring with the kingdom’s crest, belonging to the king. _Ben._

Ben, who has kept Mal from finding out the truth about Chad’s death. Ben, who refuses to let her unlock the secrets to help her best friend. Mal squeezes Evie’s hand.

Evie’s eyes brighten, as if they gleam with gold. “It’s going to be a good day. I promise.”

“Yeah.”

She’s standing in a chasm. A chasm of untruths, each crafted by the boy she’s given her heart.

Over the past week, Mal’s seen Ben a few times between classes, when he wasn’t chasing off to speak lies to reporters or help the Charmings arrange Chad’s funeral. They’ve hugged and pecked kisses hello, but a guarded mask has fallen over Ben’s face. A mask even Mal’s kisses and questions can’t erase.

_So maybe it’s time to try straight talk instead. But first…_ Mal untangles her fingers from Evie’s. “Why don’t you take a shower?” She forces a smile that seesaws into a frown. “Meet me in class?”

“Is everything okay?”

Mal brushes a blue curl from Evie’s forehead. “Let me worry about that.”

“Okay.” But the word wobbles, as if it would rather be something else.

Mal strokes Evie’s forehead with her thumb. A sure, strong stroke. “I’ve got this.”

And she does. Or she will, once she gets Ben to talk. Or at least release his command keeping her from the truth.

* * *

Mal hurries through the dusty corridors, past windows and doors. Yanks at the zipper of her leather jacket. Tries to block the memory of Evie’s screams, the ones that shattered last night’s silence. 

The world is drained of color. Outside the arched hallway windows, the school grounds are a blur of gray. Gray mist wafts over the lawn, hiding the emerald of the grass. Shadows spill across the gray concrete, cloaking students scurrying to class. Even the sky appears etched from gray granite, as if a mortician hammered tombstones across the clouds.

_Tombstones. Tombstones and graveyards and rain. And Evie’s name, emblazoned upon the marble slab._ Mal yanks so hard on her zipper, her jacket comes undone. Breaks open in the breeze wafting through the corridor.

Shivering, she wraps her arms around her stomach. Squeezes the two halves of her jacket together.

She will not let Evie’s dreams come true. She will not let her best friend lose to Death.

She will not let herself be stopped by Ben’s command. _No matter what it takes, I’ll find a way to keep Evie safe._

She skids to a stop in front of Ben’s school-based office. Pounds on the door. “Ben!”

Her only answer is the distant hum of voices, the slam of lockers, the screech of shoes. Kids on their way to class.

But yellow light spills through the crack beneath Ben’s doorway. And the faint scratch of a pen slips from the silence inside.

She pounds again. _Is this real? Are we really hiding from each other?_ She pounds until her knuckles sting. “C’mon, Ben. I know you’re in there.”

The scratching stops. There’s a thump and a muffled zip, as if a chair is scooting backward across carpet. And then footsteps. Footsteps slow, then quick, then slow, then quick, like their owner is making up his mind.

_I guess it is real._ Mal clenches from shoulder to toe. A taut, tense spring. 

Ben’s office door swings open with a squeak. “Mal.” His features are twisted into a smile-not-smile, half-and-forced. “What’s going on?”

Mal arches a single eyebrow. “Were you really going to ignore me?”

“Ignore you?” Pinpoints of pink form upon Ben’s cheeks. “What? No.”

_And now we’re lying to each other._ “Is this really us, Ben?” She crosses her arms. “Are we really doing this to each other?”

The pinpoints of pink flare into magenta stains. “Doing what?”

“Do I really have to answer that?” She locks onto his gaze. 

His eyes are green, but gold sparks ignite across their surface. Golden flames that flicker with anger. 

And beneath their furious flash, something sizzles.

An inferno of emotions, blazing through his eyes.

“Wow.” Mal lifts a finger to his face. “There you are.” She traces the top of his cheekbone. The ridge just beneath his kaleidoscope eyes. “The boy beneath the mask.”

“What?” His forehead creases, but the flash fades from his eyes. 

“Never mind.” The words are hushed. A plea. A prayer. _I know you’re still in there, Ben. Stop hiding from me._

His smile shakes. Evens out. Becomes something real. “Is something the matter, Mal? You were knocking so loudly…”

Her finger freezes. She curls it back into her hand. “You weren’t answering.” She drops her hand to her side. “And we need to talk.”

The emotions in Ben’s eyes dim. “I don’t have a lot of time.” 

_Neither does Evie._

The words emerge from a shadow place, a place where Evie’s screams still echo through Mal’s soul. 

She will not speak them. 

They are not true.

And so she swallows them down, grimacing at their taste. They are sour, and full of decay. 

“Make time.” She issues her own command. “I’m not leaving until we’ve talked.”

His features tighten. “Fine.” But something in his voice remains gentle. “It’s your birthday, right?” 

_Three months ago, he wouldn’t have had to ask._ Her arms feel heavy. She clenches them around her middle, but they weigh her down. “That’s what I’m told.” 

Ben’s golden eyes narrow. Then widen. And gleam. Gleam, as if they hold a secret only Mal can know. 

A secret she cannot decipher. She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, waiting for a clue.

“Hey.” He takes her wrist, slipping her hand from beneath the shelter of her arms. The hand that bears his ring. “You know I didn’t forget, right?” He sweeps a kiss across her knuckles. “I’d never forget you, Mal. Especially not today.”

_Then why did I have to pound on your door until my knuckles ached?_ The ache still reverberates beneath her skin, joined by the static charge of his touch. 

A charge so similar to the one she felt on coronation day, when he’d kissed her hand and confessed the reality of his love. 

_Similar. But different, too._ She releases her lip, tasting emptiness. The emptiness of a world changed, a love transformed.

Even his gaze is changed. Weeks ago, it gleamed with love; now, it gleams with secrets. Almost as if the secret in his eyes is part of the mask he’s crafted just for her. 

A mask he wears whenever she pushes, searching for the truth.

She pulls her hand away. “You want to remember me on my birthday, Ben?” 

“Of course.” He frowns at her hand.

She tucks it beneath the noose of her arms. “Then release me from your command. Let me research the cause of Chad’s death.” She pushes her way into his office. “Or tell me yourself.”

Silence. Stretching between them like a veil, hiding the secrets they both keep locked inside. 

Silence fractured only by the ticking of a clock, encased in glass on Ben’s desk. 

A desk littered with folders, crumpled papers, used-up pens.

_He’s been busy._ Mal folds herself into Ben’s armchair, back straight, hands knotted on her lap. And waits. Waits for Ben’s voice to break the silence.

Instead, it is broken by his footsteps. Sharp and rhythmic, punching against the crimson carpet. 

She digs her nails into the arms of his chair, preparing for a fight.

He rounds his desk. Curls his hands around the edge. “I told you, Mal.” The furious flash has returned to his gaze. “You need to stay out of this.”

“Why?” The word is an explosion, bursting from her lips. “Why is it so important to keep me from the truth?”

“Because.” He pushes forward, half-bent over his desk. “You don’t know the history. You don’t know what people will do if they discover that …” He shakes his head. Glances away. 

“Discover what, Ben? Discover that a murderer is loose in the kingdom?”

The air conditioner kicks on, sprinkling them with cold air. Hitting the mist already clinging to Ben’s window, courtesy of the approaching storm.

Thunder clashes in the sky, and Ben abdicates his desk for the air conditioner console, hidden in the corner of the room. He punches a button, and the cold air dies. “It isn’t a murderer, Mal.” His back is turned, his shoulders bunched around his ears. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Because you’re keeping secrets.” The cold air reforms in Mal’s voice, crystallizing like ice. “Why won’t you tell me the truth?”

“The truth could destroy the kingdom.”

“What do you mean?” Mal digs her fingers into the chair. “How could the truth destroy Auradon?”

But Ben has started a new game. A game of avoidance. He yanks open a drawer. Scatters its contents. Uses so much force, some fall over the drawer’s edge and land onto the floor. “I’ve got a birthday gift in here somewhere.”

“A birthday gift?” Abandoning the chair, Mal leaps to her feet. _Look at me, Ben. Tell me what you mean._ “You think I care about a birthday gift?”

“Of course you do.” He slams the drawer. Yanks open another. “It’s your birthday.”

She grabs the edge of his desk. Grabs it so hard, her knuckles bleed white “Ben, stop it. I don’t need a present. I need the –” _truth._ But the word dies in her throat.

A folder is trapped beneath her fingers. A folder she’s knocked open.

And peeking from the depths of that folder is a picture. 

A picture of deadened eyes. _Deadened eyes like Chad’s._

The woman in the photograph gapes at Mal, her mouth stuck open in a silent scream. Two tiny puncture wounds are swollen into her neck, scarlet with her blood.

The moisture seeps from Mal’s mouth. “What is this?”

Ben’s gaze is a wide and wild thing, skittering from Mal to the picture to Mal. “You shouldn’t be in here.” He yanks the folder from beneath Mal’s fingers. And begins gathering all the other folders, too.

There are at least seven folders, scattered across the surface of his desk.

“All of these?” The words creep out like caged whispers.

Ben’s eyes squeeze closed. “You should go.” He sheathes the folders beneath his arm. “I’ll have your present delivered later.”

But her feet are frozen to the carpet. “How?” Her entire body is frozen. “How are you keeping this quiet?” Her veins no longer pulse with blood, but freeze with ice. “How is it that no one has seen these deaths?”

Ben’s eyes pop open, revealing his haunted gaze. “They happen at night.” He shoves the folders into an open drawer. “And we think they’re using magic.”

The bell shrills outside his closed office door, signaling the beginning of the day.

But Mal’s day has already begun. Begun with her best friend’s screams, tugging her from the abyss of sleep. 

Evie’s words crawl up from the darkness. _I was dead._

“What the hell is happening, Ben?” Mal’s voice crawls up from the darkness, too. Crawls up with sharpened claws.

But even the claws aren’t enough to hold Ben captive.

He marches to the door, his footsteps wooden, mechanical. “You’ll be late for class.”

“Class?” She swivels on her spot on the floor, her movements slow, serpentine. “Do you really think I’m going to class after –”

“Yes.” He swings open the door, knocking its edge against the wall. “Because I will not tell you anymore.”

There’s a quality buried within his tone. Hidden embers of fear, flickering beneath the surface of his anger.

Mal forces her feet to move. One step after another, she sinks her kill-me-now heels into his crimson carpet, gouging it with marks. “You’re afraid.” She stops when they are face-to-face, when their breaths tangle and their body heat collides. “That’s why you’re hiding in your office. Because you’re too scared to face the truth.”

He hangs his head, covering his eyes with his hair. “Yes.”

“But you can’t.” She closes her hand around his fingers, which are still fisted around the door. “Ben, not everything is black-and-white. Sometimes, the grey creeps in, and before you realize it, your world is hidden in shadow.” _Or you live your life in shadow, and you learn to fight._ She squeezes his hand, a quick pulse of her palm. “But you don’t hide in the shadow. You rise in the darkness. You fight. You protect the people you love.”

“I am protecting the people I love.” He kicks his heel into the door, a hollow thump. “That’s why I refuse to release you from my command.” In his voice is the growl of the beast.

Deep inside, Mal’s dragon unfurls her purple wings. Stretches her talons. But Mal keeps her locked away, refusing to give into the fire. 

This is Ben. 

And Ben may be an idiot. _He’s gotta know I don’t do well with commands._

But he’s also scared. 

“Look at me.” With her fist still cupped around Ben’s, she slides the finger of her free hand under his chin. Tips back his head, unsheathing his gaze from beneath his hair.

The gold of his eyes clashes with the green, streaks of opposing color. Color contained within the fractured shards of his glassy, bloodshot stare. So many emotions, flickering beneath the surface.

There is anger. 

And pain. 

And love, smoldering beneath the glass. 

Ben gulps, and his Adam’s Apple quivers. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Stretching on tiptoes, she brushes his lips with a kiss. Lingers. “You realize commands don’t work on me?”

Ben crashes their foreheads together. “They’re the only tool I have to keep you safe.”

_The only tool you have to control me, you mean._ Mal sighs. “I don’t do safe. Especially not when Auradon is under attack. As your lady, shouldn't I have some say in what happens to the kingdom?” 

"Not about this." Ben's voice falls into a whisper. "You don't know what you're asking."

"Then tell me."

"No. I can't." He rolls his forehead against Mal’s. “Mal?”

“What?”

“Do I have to order you not to share the information I’ve given you today?” 

Mal's shoulders fall. _Really, Ben? Are you really still using your crown to control me?_ She steps away, backing into archway of his door. “You know, Ben, some boyfriends try asking before using the power of their crown.”

Lightning flashes through the room, turning Ben silver with shadow. “Those boyfriends don’t have entire kingdoms riding on their shoulders.” The emotion drains from his voice, leaving his tone hollow.

His features are hollow, too. His cheeks sink into the firm press of his lips. His eyes harden, emptying of emotion. 

He is the boy hidden beneath the mask.

And maybe that mask exists to hide his fear. And maybe it exists because he is too young – _they_ are too young – to handle a kingdom, let alone a kingdom on the brink of destruction.

But the mask is crafted from ice. And that ice skips from the surface of Ben’s face, striking the surface of Mal’s skin. She is freezing in the hailstorm of her boyfriend’s commands. 

Deep inside, Mal’s dragon roars. Warms her with a flash of dragon fire.

Mal backs into the hall. Coils her arms around her middle.

“Mal? Do I –”

She silences him with a flash of her electric green eyes. “Don’t bother.” 

_It won’t work._ She turns and strides into the hall.

Her only source of warmth is Ben’s crested ring, which burns against her finger, and her dragon, which burns within her soul.


	4. Chapter Four

****

**Chapter Four**

* * *

Refrain from walking in the shadow of magic and too-hard truth, for in shadow there is only Darkness, and Auradon is a land of light.

\- Auradon Proverb

* * *

****

****

Mal breaks Ben’s command.

Breaks it the moment she stalks from his office.

Within two beats of her heart, she’s striding toward the library. _Ben may think he can control me._ Her boots beat a frantic cadence against the tiled floor. _But he can’t._

She swivels around a corner lined with lockers, and memories crash through her mind. A spell book, hidden in the depths of her own locker. Hidden, because Ben had forbidden her magic. _It’s always been this way._ She stretches her neck, cracking the tension in her muscles. _Ben’s way…or mine._

But Mal was born with magic. And even Ben can’t quench the dragon fire raging through Mal’s blood. 

Mal is many things. 

A fairy. 

An Isle girl. 

The leader of the VKs. 

And she will not let her people or Ben’s fall into ruin because their king has chosen to keep quiet. 

She will uncover the truth. 

Even if it means breaking Ben’s command.

Even if it means breaking both of their hearts.

And so she turns another corner, continuing toward the library.

The hallway is empty of students. Empty of anything except crumpled papers and the core of an apple, tossed aside to rot near the trash. 

_Kinda reminds me of the Isle._ The Isle, with its heaps of trash and its rotten fruit. Everyone locked away and neglected. Even the innocent, who were left to fend for themselves.

She pauses to toss the core into the garbage can. And lingers on a mind-picture of Evie, who carried apples through the Isle, promising to poison anyone who messed with the boys or Mal. 

A promise she never fulfilled. 

Evie may have been gifted with a legacy of evil. 

But that legacy was forsaken the day she was born with a hero’s heart.

Mal’s chest tangles into knots. _I’m not letting anyone hurt her._

The double library doors swing into sight. They are open. Beckoning her to enter.

She accepts their summons. 

She slips into the library, her footsteps muffled by the cream-colored carpet. 

Shelves and shelves stretch out before her, each crammed with a colorful array of books. The books are split into sections, and each section is labeled with a sign. There are the sciences and the biographies and the fictions. And then there are the histories.

Mal heads for the histories. Because if she’s going to discover the legends of Auradon, she might as well start with the past. 

She winds through evenly-placed tables and straight-backed chairs. Steps past a fireplace, where a fire crackles with warmth. Avoids a desk, where a librarian huddles over a manuscript marked with the strange scrawl of an ancient language. Something about the script screams out to Mal, like it is begging to be read.

 _But I can’t read ancient scripts._ Her skin tingling from some unknown power, she forces her feet forward. 

The history section stretches from one wall to another. Mal scans the titles of books. _Heroes and Kings. Structuring a Democratic Monarchy. The Age of No Magic._ She shakes her head at each of them. She doesn’t need to read about kings or monarchies or a world without magic. 

Her world is full of magic.

Magic being abused by a monster who wishes the kingdom death.

She breathes in deep. Breathes in the smell of parchment and must. And steps further into the section.

Then she stops. 

Several shelves are trapped behind five heavy chains. Chains rigid against their spines, holding them captive. _What the…?_

The titles of the locked books scream out to her. _Monsters: Fact or Fable? Events Before the Age of Auradon. The Dawn of Auradon: Ending A Reign of Terror._

These are the books Mal wants. The books she needs. She curls her fingers around the spine of _The Dawn of Auradon._ Attempts to pull it from the shelf. 

But the chain is tight, blocking her from moving the book more than a few inches.

Mal grits her teeth and yanks. 

The book clashes against the chain, refusing to abandon its prison.

What Mal needs is magic. What she needs is a spell. She digs her fingers into the spine of the book. And makes up a rhyme. “Knowledge locked behind steel chains, free yourself from your constrains.”

She tugs at the book. But the chain is solid against its spine.

What she needs is her spellbook. What she needs is the knowledge tucked away by generations of her ancestors.

But her spell book is locked away in a museum. A museum imprisoning magic the same way these chains confine knowledge. And she doesn’t know the rhymes necessary to spell their way to freedom.

Mal points her finger at the chains. “Make it easy, make it quick, open up without a kick.”

The chain is rigid, unmoving.

Mal grabs it in her fist. “Make it easy, make it quick, open up without a –”

“Excuse me, my lady.” A feminine voice, hushed but stern, comes from behind Mal. _The librarian._ “You aren’t allowed to access this section. It’s forbidden.”

Mal’s shoulders buckle inward, and she casts her gaze to the ceiling. _I’ve stepped into the pages of a_ Harry Potter _novel._

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” The librarian’s voice climbs in volume.

 _Of course you are._ Abandoning the book, Mal pastes on a bright lady-of-the-court smile and whirls to face the librarian. “I’m so sorry to bother you, ma’am. The king asked me to get him this book, but –”

“The king is the one who chained this section.” The librarian purses her lips. “And he specifically instructed me to bar access to everyone. Even his lady.”

The word _specifically_ punches through Mal’s mind. _Specifically_ , meaning that Ben took special pains to keep Mal out. _Specifically_ , meaning that he’s having conversations with librarians behind Mal’s back.

The librarian’s black eyes flash beneath her spectacles, and it is all Mal can do not to confront her gaze with an electric green glare. 

“Did he now?” Mal bites off each word. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to remind him to give me access.” 

“I wish you luck.” The librarian thumps her fingers against the chains, which clank metallically against the backs of so many forbidden books. 

“Thank you.” Mal’s words are carved from ice.

The librarian straightens her shoulders. “And far be it for me to tell a lady of the court how to behave, but aren’t you supposed to be in class?”

The librarian tilts her head and narrows her gaze. Her black eyes darken beneath her spectacles; what once was velvet ebony is now cut obsidian.

Mal recognizes that gaze.

It is the same gaze every other citizen of Auradon wore during Mal’s earlier days with Ben. The gaze of the doubters. Painted in dark shades of disapproval, crafted from colors of this-girl-will-never-be-a-lady and a-villain-will-never-be-queen.

Mal’s cheeks burn. “I was just on my way.” 

“Then perhaps you should scoot.” She waves her hand toward the doors.

Mal casts a final burning glance at the books she cannot have, followed by a final burning glance at the woman keeping her from their knowledge. “Fine.” She mouths the word and ducks her head, cutting herself off from that obsidian gaze. _But this isn’t over._

And then she hurries away. Away from the librarian. Away from the forbidden section. Away from the chains.

But not even distance can stop the realization that Ben’s control extends far beyond his commands. It extends to every corner of his kingdom. A kingdom on the brink of destruction, where every citizen – including Evie – faces their death.

And along with the realization comes a heavy weight, like the chains restricting Mal from the books have locked themselves around her shoulders, creating an unbreakable noose.

* * *

Her shoulders weighted with exhaustion, with nerves, with thoughts of death, Mal stoops in her seat at the back of Fairy Godmother’s history classroom.

Fairy Godmother is way too chipper for this early in the morning. She delivers her lecture with fluttering hand motions, prancing back-and-forth across the podium, picking on students scattered throughout the room to answer questions about magic and its absence from Auradon.

 _If she only knew. Magic is definitely not absent from Auradon._ Mal scoots lower in her seat, avoiding Fairy Godmother’s wandering gaze.

So Fairy Godmother calls on Evie instead, who delivers a prompt answer while perched on the edge of the seat next to Mal’s. “Magic was discarded in favor of books after all Auradon’s citizens supposedly decided that book learning was best.” 

“Not supposedly, dear. But good answer nonetheless.” Fairy Godmother nods, and continues her fluttering prance.

But something is off about that answer. 

All _of Auradon’s citizens?_ Mal thumps her fingers against her knees. _That’s a huge coincidence._

Apparently, Evie agrees.

Evie scratches notes onto a sheet of lined paper, her mouth puffed into her scholar’s frown. But the words _supposedly_ and _claimed_ pop into her notes more than once.

Sensing Mal’s attention, Evie palms her pencil and traces a finger across Mal’s hand. Catching Mal’s gaze, she rolls her eyes and winks.

Mal stifles laughter, even as her skin sings from the electricity of Evie’s touch.

Between them both lays a purple rose, which Evie set atop their desk _(“Because it’s your birthday, M, and roses plus purple make you happy.”)_ It is silken and fragrant, but lined with thorns.

And Evie’s brown eyes are haunted by nightmares, red-rimmed from loss of sleep.

Outside the window, the world turns dark with the approach of storms. A flash of lightning streaks through the glass, turning Evie from blue-haired-girl into silver-silhouette. So similar to the silhouetted form she becomes when the onyx night bleeds silver light into their dorm room window. 

Mal stares at Evie and flashes on nights spent tangled in Evie’s bedsheets, watching the shadow-form of her best friend flail in dreams-become-nightmare, screams trapped in Evie’s throat. Fighting death while Ben is off somewhere else, fighting truth with lies and chains.

Something sharp uncoils in Mal’s chest. Her dragon unfurls her wings, pressing into Mal’s heart with sharpened talons. She clenches her teeth. And snatches her sketchbook from her bag. Anything to block the memories of Evie’s nightmares. Evie’s nightmares and chains and boys beneath masks.

She pops the sketchbook open, her hand still warm from Evie’s electric touch. Pressing a pencil into the page, she forces her emotions to escape from her fingers into her sketch. The electricity coursing through her skin fades into warmth, and the roar of her anger dwindles into a groan.

The blank page transforms. What once was white is now graphite grey with arched angles and jagged edges, the drizzle of rain and the skeleton of trees.

When the sketch is halfway formed, Mal presses the pencil so hard into the page, the lead snaps. Snaps at the bottom of a tombstone, in the center of a graveyard. 

Mal freezes. And swallows a breath.

The scene is familiar. Which is freaky, because Mal’s never seen this image before. Not in life. And not in a sketch.

She’s heard about it, though. Every time Evie snaps awake screaming, the prophecies pouring from her lips.

The sketch depicts a half-formed scene from Evie’s prophecy. A graveyard. In the rain. And a tombstone. _Meant for Evie._

Without thought, Mal has sketched Evie’s death. Sketched her funeral. A funeral prophecied to take place during a storm, while outside, the world turns angry with the threat of rain.

Rain that promises to pour in late spring, when Auradon is usually dry.

 _No._ Mal fists her fingers around her traitorous pencil. _The prophecies aren’t real. The nightmares are just dreams._ She snaps her sketchbook closed. And chances a glance at Evie, hoping she hasn’t seen Mal’s mistake.

Luckily, Evie is scribbling notes, too caught up in Fairy Godmother’s lecture to notice Mal’s sketch. 

Mal unfists her fingers from around her pencil, allowing it to clatter onto her desk. 

Her gaze drifts along Evie’s face. A face pale from lack of sleep, with drooping eyelids and dark bruises puffed beneath brown eyes.

Evie’s nightmares have haunted her for weeks.

Haunted her with visions Mal refuses to believe are anything but false.

She strokes the petals of the purple rose, then moves her hand lower to trace the stem.

Evie’s having nightmares. And Ben’s effectively chained Mal off from the knowledge she needs to unravel the horror story of Evie’s dreams.

So Mal sits in history class while the kingdom falls prey to death. And she has no idea how to craft a weapon that will stop Auradon from crumbling.

 _Wait a minute._ Mal jolts upright. _I'm sitting in history class. Where I’m supposed to be learning about Auradon history._ She presses so hard into the stem, her finger pricks the thorn. A drop of blood pools onto her skin, crimson in the classroom’s flourescent light. Ignoring it, she raises her hand. “Fairy Godmother?”

Cut off mid-word, the headmistress stops pacing. “Mal?” The multi-colored window glass casts various shades of light across her astonished face. “Did you have a question?”

“Um, yes.” Mal squirms in her seat. _Never a good sign when the teacher looks at you like you’ve just jumped from a closet and shouted BOO._ “I, uh, I was wondering if you could tell us anything about the history before Beast became king. You know.” She takes a breath, willing her voice not to bounce with the furious rhythm of her pulse. “Something earlier than the start of the kingdom, around the dawn of Auradon. I hear there was a reign of terror?” 

There it is. The banned book’s title. Because there are no chains barring Mal from seeking out the truth with her words.

At the front of the room, a clock ticks down time.

Outside the windows, the clouds darken with the threat of rain.

And Fairy Godmother pins Mal with a stare so deep, it’s as if she’s magicked herself into Mal’s mind. “That isn’t one of our assigned course topics, Mal.” She folds her hands. “And I would advise you to find other things to read.” 

Mal flushes from face to foot. _Didn’t realize I was being so obvious._

Still, obvious or not, she needs the answers. Needs to know more about this invisible threat.

Knowledge means power. And power means protecting Evie and all of Auradon.

Leaning forward, she forces herself to remain latched onto Fairy Godmother’s X-ray stare. “Fairy Godmother, if the real power comes from books, then shouldn’t we be allowed to read them?”

“Not all books contain power, Mal.” Her voice is soft as cotton, but fortified with steel. “Sometimes, knowledge can be dangerous. Believe me when I say it’s best to leave the past in the past.”

“But what if the past doesn’t stay in the past? What if –”

“It seems you have a lot of _what ifs_.” Fairy Godmother squares her shoulders, a soldier on the kingdom’s battlefield. “Maybe it would be best if you left the questions for those more qualified.”

Her finger aching from the prick of the thorn, Mal pinches it in her fist, stifling the flow of blood. “What if those more qualified prefer to hide the truth with lies?”

“Then you allow them to shield us from the truth because they know what’s best.” Fairy Godmother’s steel-fortified voice loses its touch of cotton, and edges like the blade of a sword. “Sometimes lies are necessary mistruths.”

The other students glance from the headmistress to Mal with widened eyes. But their faces are darkened. Darkened like the oncoming storm. Some exchange whispers. Whispers behind closed hands. Audrey sits at a table beside Mal and Evie’s, studying her nails as if they’re scrawled with answers Mal cannot see.

At the front of the room, Lonnie and Jane shake their heads. _You don’t want to start something_ , their tight expressions scream.

“M.” Evie curves her hand around Mal’s shoulder. Her touch is solid and sure, like the touches they shared back on the Isle, before they faced rival gangs. 

But there’s something new. Something less warrior-like and sweeter.

Evie strokes Mal’s shoulder with her thumb. Her touch is a caress, a promise of support strengthened with tenderness.

Something weightless floats through Mal’s chest, and she clasps Evie’s hand beneath her own. “Thanks, E.”

The differences between Auradon and the Isle crash around Mal's shoulders.

In Auradon, it is ignore-don’t-explore, hide-don’t-confide.

On the Isle, it was fight-or-be-fought, shield-or-be-killed. Vigilance was everything. Mal squeezes Evie’s hand. _It still is._

Fairy Godmother watches Mal for another tick of the second hand, her features sharpened as if by carving stones. And then, as if sensing Mal’s fight is over, her features soften. “Thank you for your questions, Mal.”

Mal stares past Fairy Godmother to the window, where rain breaks through black clouds. “Any time.” 

With a nod, Fairy Godmother swivels on her heel and steps to the board. Plucking up a piece of chalk, she scrawls out five words: AURADON: A WORLD WITHOUT MAGIC. “Now, who can tell me about the Anti-Magic Pact of –?”

Sinking back into her chair, Mal blocks out the rest. 

So much has changed. 

Two months ago, she would have agreed – or pretended to agree – with Fairy Godmother. After all, she’d given up her spell book. Given it up for the freedom offered by Auradon. The freedom to live in a world where magic came from within, and every day was a new opportunity.

But that was before she’d discovered Chad’s body. That was before she’d discovered the seven folders scattered across Ben’s desk. She laces her fingers with Evie’s, transferring their linked hands to her lap. That was before Evie started dreaming of her death. And Mal spent every minute worried about Evie and their friends. _Now, I’d do anything to sink my claws into a spell. If the murderer has them, I want them, too._

Rain splatters the multi-colored windows, striking the glass like so many liquid daggers. 

Evie’s hand tightens around Mal’s. Tightens in a way that is so different from her usual squeeze, almost as if she’s gone mechanical.

Tension has already threaded through Mal’s muscles, and so she jerks, knocking Evie’s notebook to the floor. “Evie? Are –”

Audrey sniffs. “Isle girls. So in need of etiquette lessons.” She’s no longer studying her nails for answers Mal does not know. No, she's arched an eyebrow and lowered her voice so Fairy Godmother cannot hear. “Too bad you didn’t grow up royal.”

Evie stares straight ahead, her gaze held captive by the rain pounding against the windows. But her cheeks stain scarlet. 

She does not look at Audrey. 

She’s avoided looking at her ever since that very first day, when Audrey reminded Evie that she had no royal status here in Auradon.

Evie, the daughter of a queen.

Evie, whose tiara pendant peeks from her blue braid. A braid that curls around her head like a royal crown.

Mal’s eyes flash electric green. “You really want to get me started on prissy pink princesses, Audrey?”

Audrey stares into Mal’s electric eyes and flinches. “Mal’s using magic, Fairy Godmother.” Her voice crests above the wave of Fairy Godmother’s lecture.

“That’s enough, children.” Fairy Godmother claps her hands. “Mal, put the dragon away.”

“She started it.” Mal infuses each word with a dragon’s growl.

A whisper at the back of her mind warns her not to do this. Warns her that she is a lady of this court, and ladies do not use magic.

Mal drowns that whisper in dragon fire, which burns through her veins, pulsing with anger. The images from the day crash through her mind. Ben, hiding beneath his mask. The librarian, hiding behind the chains. Fairy Godmother, hiding truth behind platitudes.

Thunder crashes in the world outside, punctuating the race of Mal’s heart.

Evie’s mechanical grip spasms. “M, it’s okay. You don’t have to keep fighting my battles.” There’s something unspoken in Evie’s words. Something satin-and-sweet. 

It dances from Evie’s tongue to Mal’s, settling into the rooftop of her mouth, smooth and creamy like chocolate.

But there’s something mechanical in Evie’s words, too. 

Almost as if they have come to life on their own, awakened not by the girl who continues to stare at the rain with a gaze crafted from glass, but from some unknown place Evie unlocks only in her night terrors.

Because the voice she uses now is the same voice she uses when she wakes from nightmares.

Fairy Godmother’s heels create a quiet cadence against the tile. “Mal, I need you to calm down.” She knocks her knuckles against Mal’s desk. 

Mal forces a deep breath, which burns her lungs. “Yes, Fairy Godmother.” _Because ladies should be calm._

Mal tries not to look at Audrey, who smirks and slides back into her seat.

“Good.” Fairy Godmother leans back on her heels. And glances at the empty table beside Mal and Evie’s. “Tell me. Where are the boys? Carlos? Jay?”

“Not sure,” Mal says.

Fairy Godmother sighs, a sound joined by the clash of rain. “Evie?”

“They’ll be here just before the bell rings. At 9:33.” Evie’s voice is an even drone, a ghost of sound. “Dude had an accident on Carlos’ bed. They’re cleaning it up now.”

“Very well.” Fairy Godmother folds her arms, her elbows peeking from beneath the wisp of her aqua sleeves. “Now pay attention, girls. This class is important.” And she returns to the front of the room.

But Mal is staring at the clock. It is 9:31. Her chest tightens with every click of the second hand.

Because there’s no way Evie should know what she knows. Evie, who is still hypnotized by the rain. Who watches the drizzle as though it paints pictures against the glass. Pictures Mal cannot see.

Mal snaps her fingers. “Evie?” 

“Hmm?”

“How did you know that?” Mal’s whisper sticks in her throat. “About Jay and Carlos?”

“Don’t know. Dude’s always having accidents.”

The clock ticks another minute. 9:32.

“No.” Mal shakes her head. “He isn’t.” Dude’s a dog smart enough to talk. He _asks_ Carlos to take him to the bathroom. “Where are you, Evie?”

Her only answer is the scratch of chalk. Fairy Godmother underlines AURADON: A WORLD WITHOUT MAGIC three times.

But Fairy Godmother is wrong.

Magic isn’t absent in Auradon. 

Magic has never been absent in Auradon. 

It throbs in the world around them, a living, breathing heartbeat. It pulses in the air, in the space between Mal and Evie.

Evie, the girl with the dark crescents stamped beneath her eyes. A haunting reminder of her nightmares. Nightmares, like the ones she had last night, as rain pounded against the window: 

_“M, did you know that pictures form in the rain?” Evie pointed at the window, where rain left reflections upon the glass. “Can’t you see them? They’re just outside the glass.”_

Evie’s prophecies. Pictures in the rain. _No. They can’t be real._ She watches the clock tick to 9:33, a bomb of time. Threatening an explosion of truth should the door swing open and the boys walk in.

The larger hand kicks forward, striking the next minute. _9:33._

And the door swings open.

Carlos and Jay stand in the threshold.

“Sorry we’re late, Fairy Godmother.” Carlos pushes his fingers through a wild upturn of his hair. “Dude had an accident.”

“Yeah.” Jay’s shoulders shake with laughter. “All over Carlos’ sheets.”

Evie deflates. Her grip loosens around Mal’s hand. No longer robotic. No longer mechanical. She blinks, and life returns to her eyes. She is Evie again.

Evie, who has prophecies. Evie, whose prophecies are real.

The bell shrills through the room, signaling the end of class. And a wave of students crests for the door. The boys freeze, having reached their seats.

But Mal doesn’t freeze. Mal releases Evie’s hand and jumps from her chair, sending it crashing back against the wall.

The monster has magic.

So Mal needs magic, too.

_Because there’s no way I’m letting Evie prophecy her death without wielding a weapon that can save her life. _Chairs block Mal’s path to the headmistress, so she vaults over a table and marches to the front of the room. To the place where Fairy Godmother attacks the chalkboard with an eraser until only the words WHY MAGIC remain, scrawled in broken white script.__

The only people left in the room other than Mal and Fairy Godmother are the VKs.

__Mal peeks at them from the corner of her eye._ _

__Evie staggers from her seat, blinking away her visions. Her mouth is folded into a frown._ _

__And Jay and Carlos study Mal with open mouths, bonking heads when they lean too close._ _

__Mal ignores them. And clears her throat. "Fairy Godmother?"_ _

__“Oh.” Fairy Godmother drops the eraser onto the metallic overhang. “I didn’t realize you – yes, dear?”_ _

__Mal plants her boots before Fairy Godmother’s desk. The stance of a warrior preparing for battle. “I’d like my spellbook back, please.”_ _

__Jay and Carlos freeze. Seconds earlier, they’d been poking each other in the arms, the sides, the chest. Now they drop onto their desk. Jay’s bag clatters to the floor._ _

__“M.” Evie creeps up behind Mal. “What are you doing?”_ _

__“Protecting you.” Mal tempers her voice so low, Fairy Godmother cannot hear._ _

__The headmistress’ gaze intensifies. “Your spellbook has been retired, Mal.”_ _

__“Well, I’m unretiring it.”_ _

__There is the crack of thunder, the pummel of rain._ _

__And Fairy Godmother’s face clouds, as if surrendering to the storm. “Magic isn’t allowed in Auradon. If you’d been paying attention during the lesson today, you might remember that.”_ _

__“And what are we supposed to do?” Mal grinds her kill-me-now heels into the tile. “Fairy Godmother, people are dying in Auradon. We need to fight. We need –”_ _

__“That’s enough.” She holds up a hand. “What we need is to trust the police. That’s the way we normally handle things in Auradon.”_ _

__“Nothing about this is normal.” Mal clenches her hand around the edge of Fairy Godmother’s desk. “The killings – they’re not normal. I know you think book learning is best, but then you ban us from knowledge offered from books. And besides, what are we supposed to do? Hit the monster over the head with a dictionary?”_ _

__Fairy Godmother’s gaze flashes, as if with thunder. “There are no monsters in Auradon.”_ _

__“Yes. There are.” Words, ground out between gritted teeth. “You have us stuck in here, unable to defend ourselves, while somewhere out there,” she says, jabbing her thumb at the window, “people are being murdered.” She pushes forward against the desk, rattling Fairy Godmother’s pens. “This is crazy. Your ban on magic is absolutely crazy.”_ _

__Jay whistles, keening and low-pitched._ _

__“M.” Mal’s name is a cannon blast, fired from Evie’s lips._ _

__“I think it’s time for you to leave.” Fairy Godmother’s words are etched in straight lines and hard-edged angles. “If you hurry, you’ll be on time for your next class.”_ _

__“But –”_ _

__“Go along, now.” She waves her hand toward the door. “If you leave this instant, I won’t write you up for intimidation.”_ _

__Mal thrusts herself against the desk. Metal scrapes against the floor. “Write me up for –?”_ _

__“Come on, Mal.” There’s a scurry of footsteps, and then Evie is curling her fingers around Mal’s shoulder, pulling her away from the desk._ _

__“Yeah. We don’t want to be late.” Jay grabs Mal’s arm. Drags her toward the door._ _

__“Damn it, you guys.” Mal falls back, but Jay is strong, and Evie is resilient. She is tugged and pushed from the classroom, through the throngs of students, outside into the storm. Rain lashes against her cheeks._ _

__Carlos slams the door. “Look, I know there are benefits to going all Isle, but do you really want to get expelled?”_ _

__A scream burns Mal’s throat, but she traps it deep inside. Locks it away with the dragon, who paces and roars, clawing for freedom. Her eyes do not burn. She wills away their electric green. “Half the kids in this school,” she says, her chest heaving with an explosion of breath, “are magical, but no one is allowed to protect themselves. It’s the craziest thing I’ve ever – ”_ _

__“I know.” Evie steps forward, in front of Mal. “And I know you’re doing it for me. But this isn’t the way.” She pulls Mal into a hug._ _

__Cloaked in the heat of Evie’s embrace, Mal thaws. Thaws, but does not melt. “I’ll find another way,” is the promise she whispers into Evie’s ear._ _

__Evie shivers. “Okay.”_ _

__“I swear, E.” Mal rests her forehead on Evie’s shoulder. She is drenched from the rain, but all Mal feels is warmth. “I won’t let anything hurt you.”_ _

__Evie tightens her arms. “My big bad dragon.”_ _

__Mal nuzzles her nose into the crook of Evie's neck. And whispers: "Roar."_ _


	5. Chapter Five

****

**Chapter Five**

* * *

Wee ones, magic and mortal,  
Do not cast any spell,  
For creepers walk among us,  
Magic they seek, blood they smell,  
And if you cast your magic,  
On Death’s door we’ll all dwell.

\- Auradonian Nursery Rhyme 

* * *

****

****

Mal walks Evie to her second period English class.

And then she skips school.

Because she may be a lady, but she’ll be villain-damned if she’s gonna hide inside some classroom while a killer is stalking Auradon. Especially not when that same killer is stalking Evie in her nightmares.

So at the beginning of second period, Mal waits in a dark alcove of the hallway, watching the kids disappear inside their classrooms. Rain drips from her hair, her clothes, her boots, puddling water onto the floor and chilling her skin. But she does her best to ignore the cold. And waits for the teachers’ voices to drone through the halls. When they do, she calls upon her Isle roots. Hushing her footsteps, she slinks past lockers and skirts through the shadows spilling from open doorways, pushing out the double exit doors.

The world outside is liquid-daggers-against-her-cheeks, the cold-bite-of-air, and blurs-of-black-and-grey-sky, a furious landscape echoing with the screams of thunder and lit by forks of dragon-tongued lightning.

Deep inside the darkest parts of her soul, Mal’s dragon flaps her wings, eager for the chaos.

But Mal-the-fairy trembles in the cold. Goose bumps bite into her skin, and her teeth clack together, making her jaw ache. _I would choose today of all days to break free from campus._ She flips the collar of her leather jacket, shrugging inside for warmth. And sprints to the school’s gates.

Because there’s no way she’s not doing this. There’s no way she’s not investigating those deaths.

Seven folders were scattered across Ben’s desk. Seven folders containing seven pictures of seven people attacked by the bastard who haunts Evie’s dreams.

Mal may have only seen one picture.

But she knows where it was taken. _BelleBeast Park._ She knows the towering trees that hid the corpse. She knows the lush green growth that served as the dead woman’s burial ground.

She knows that if she doesn’t investigate the death today, Ben will have it cleaned up by nightfall. And all clues will vanish.

The gates shudder in a rush of wind, which nips at Mal’s cheeks, numbing her skin. Grumbling about rainstorms and kings who cover deaths, Mal clenches her fist around the black bars and tugs.

The gates wobble, but do not open.

A metallic chain glints in the darkness. The gates are latched. Padlocked since the morning they discovered Chad’s mutilated corpse.

Mal narrows her eyes at the thick lock. _Everything’s in chains._ She kicks at the gates, creating an echoing clang. But they remain sealed.

That’s okay.

Mal may have lost her spell book.

But she hasn’t lost her memory.

She pushes off the bars. And aims her spell-casting finger at the silver chains. “Make it easy, make it quick, open up without a kick.”

The sky billows with angry black clouds.

Rain pummels down onto Mal’s head, dripping chill fingers down her back.

And the chain breaks, clattering onto the concrete. A metallic mess.

The gate squeaks open, scraping the cement.

“Who says magic is dead in Auradon?” Mal lifts her lips into a smirk, and blows on her finger as if blowing on a prized weapon. 

She steps into the threshold between school and world.

And a fork of lightning zigzags from the sky, sparking against the gate’s metallic bars in a blaze of white-hot light. A blaze that blasts outward at Mal, a flaming spark of heat.

Mal jumps backward, a gasp thick in her throat. Her heart spasms against her rib cage. _Okay. That was just a coincidence. Right?_

Because no way is the world responding to her bout of magical rule-breaking.

Mal’s eyes flash electric green. And she glares up into the liquid-dagger sky. “You missed.”

A crash of thunder answers, mocking Mal with its booming laughter.

Mal’s pulse storms into her throat, but she swallows the rush of fear. _This is ridiculous. The sky is not attacking me._ She steps back into the threshold, the middle ground between Auradon Prep and the kingdom beyond. “C’mon.” She quirks her fingers at the sky. “I dare you.”

But the sky is silent. There is no second flash of lightning. There is no second boom of thunder.

The sky is just a sky, not a lethal world come to life.

Mal casts her eyes to the fury of the clouds. They roil and churn, but they do not mock.

She hangs her head. _Get it together, Mal. You’re the big bad from the Isle. And big bads aren’t spooked by thunderstorms._

So even though the scent of lightning stings Mal’s nose with a punch of odor like chlorine, she breathes in deep. Forces her body to unclench.

Because she has a mystery to solve. And the only way she’s going to solve it is by keeping her head together.

When the world remains silent, she jams her hands into her pockets. And sprints past the gates into the parking lot, where her purple Vespa gleams beneath the rush of rain. 

Mal jumps onto the scooter, caressing its sleek purple build. Grabbing her goggles and helmet from its handlebars, she slips into her gear.

And then she presses the ignition. Twists the throttle, accelerating to twenty. And squirms as a thrill of adrenaline shoots down her spine. 

The world streams by in blacks and greens and blues, streets and trees and houses, shuttered from the storm. Rain splatters against Mal’s helmet, trickling down her goggles. Smearing her vision.

She twists the throttle, pushing sixty, zooming toward BelleBeast Park. 

Soon, thick thatches of emerald signal the park’s beginning border. Mal pulls on the brake levers, coasting into the greenery.

The body was discovered at the edge of BelleBeast Park, where the highway meets the trees. Right about where Mal is now. 

So Mal slows her scooter to a crawl, searching the area for signs of death. Blood or broken branches or even a body bag. A spool of yellow crime scene tape would work well, too. Like the tape the guard used to mark off Chad’s death scene.

But there is nothing.

Nothing but unbroken ground and raindrops falling from lush trees.

There is no blood.

There are no splintered branches.

Mal pulls her scooter to a stop. And jumps off the Vespa to have a look around.

But she finds nothing. _Damn it._ She tugs at the strands of her dripping hair. _Ben’s already had the place combed._ She kicks at an acorn, sending it hurtling against the trunk of a tree.

And then she freezes. Not from the ice of rain, but from a creeping sensation crawling across her skin. The same sensation she felt on the Isle, whenever a pirate or a sea urchin laid in wait, watching her. Preparing for attack.

Mal’s stomach topples to her toes. She spins in a circle, checking the shadows between trees. Searching for eyes.

Finding nothing.

Her dragon awakens, stretching her talons. Flapping her wings.

Mal taps into her dragon senses. Flaring her nostrils, she smells the area. And winces.

It smells like burnt sulfur. _Like magic gone wrong._

From somewhere in the shadows, there is a whisper. _“Maleficent…”_

Mal’s chest clenches into a fist. _I’m imagining things. It’s gotta be the rain._

Because her name isn’t Maleficent. It’s Mal. 

Maleficent is her mother.

Even so, she taps into her dragon senses. Taps into her dragon’s sense of hearing.

But all she hears is the tap tap tap of rain.

There are no resounding echoes of her mother’s name.

Mal stumbles backward to her scooter. And climbs atop.

There are no clues here. Nothing to silence her questions, her inquiries. There is only madness in BelleBeast Park. 

And so she punches the ignition. Twists the throttle. And zooms away.

* * *

She cuts the rest of her classes. Sneaks lunch from the dining hall, then hides out in her dorm. Tries to quiet the fear slicing through her mind. Tells herself that what happened at BelleBeast Park was just her imagination rebelling from too many nights watching her best friend fight Death in her dreams.

Mal has been so ready to fight Death for Evie, she imagined it come to life where someone was actually killed. And now all she wants is to forget.

Lightning cuts through Mal’s room in zigzag slices of ghost-white and gravestone-gray. Shadows creep along the walls, preying on the in-between spaces hidden from the light. 

The scent of rain and wet concrete curls through the air, tangling with Mal’s heightened senses. 

The dragon paces, longing to emerge. Eager to break free in a tangle of talons and wings.

Mal quiets the beast with her art. 

Her sketchbook flung open on her lap, she presses her pencil into the page. Colors grey graphite across the abyss of white. Sketches razor-thin angles and sword-sharp lines. Skeletons in leafless trees. Rain-soaked mud. A tombstone emblazoned with letters. An _E_. And a _V_. And – 

_No._ Mal flings her pencil onto her bed. _Not again._

Since she returned from BelleBeast Park, she's drawn seven sketches. And every time, she’s sketched the same scene. It doesn’t matter that she’s tried to sketch something different. Each time, her angles, curves and lines transform into the scene from Evie’s prophecy.

The same scene Mal sketched in class, while Evie sat by her side. While the memory of Evie’s touch still electrified Mal’s skin.

Mal’s art has gone renegade. It’s no longer an escape, a way to quiet her mind from the oddities she discovered at the park. 

It’s become a death omen.

Evie’s _death omen_. Mal tears the page from the book. _I keep bringing Evie’s death to life with my own hand._

Crumpling the sketch in her fist, she tosses it into the wastebasket crammed with crumpled sketches.

The clock has ticked seven hours since Evie’s prophecy. Since Evie’s vision of Carlos and Jay became reality.

 _How many hours will pass before Evie’s death becomes reality, too?_ Mal pushes the renegade thought from her mind, even as the beast within flaps its wings, clawing at her heart in a bid for freedom.

She needs magic.

She needs truth.

She needs a way to escape. For Evie and Jay and Carlos and all of Auradon to escape, too.

But she has nothing. Nothing but the unbroken ground at BelleBeast Park. Nothing but the wild beast lurking deep inside, and the skill of the Isle burning bright within her soul.

Evie’s mother is a witch. Her grandmother was a sorceress. Together, they’ve produced a girl with bright blue hair and a penchant for prophecy. 

Magic rages through Evie’s blood just as it burns through Mal’s, and nothing – not even a kingdom on the brink of destruction – can stop them from being who they are. 

A dragon. 

And a girl who can foresee her own death.

 _But Evie’s not going to die._ Mal presses her pencil into another blank page. _I’m not going to let her._

She imagines Evie happy. Free. Full of life. 

The beast within quiets, its roar fading into a murmur. 

And Mal channels everything she feels for Evie into her sketch. Tracing graphite across the expanse of white, she wills her emotions to escape onto the canvas. 

An image roars to life on the page.

A girl whose starry eyes are infused with laughter. Whose thick hair tumbles over shoulders squared and ready for the future. 

Every stroke of Mal’s pencil whispers new life into Evie’s features. Features so lifelike, they appear ready to dance from the page and into Mal’s arms.

 _There you are._ Mal glides her fingers over Evie’s gorgeous face. 

The dragon curls into a ball, breathing fire through Mal’s chest. Stoking her heart with heat.

The creature is satisfied. For now.

Mal presses her pencil onto another page. But stops at the sound of song.

From the hall, a chorus of voices sings: “For she’s a wicked good fairy! For she’s a wicked good fairy! For she’s a wicked good fairy, rotten to the core!”

“What the…?” Mal drops her pencil. It bounces onto the sketch, rolling onto her bed.

The door is flung open. 

And in march Carlos and Jay, clutching bags of chocolate and popcorn.

And in trots Dude, who wags his tail and grins.

And in step Lonnie and Jane, clinging to the strings of bobbing purple balloons. 

And then there is Evie. Evie, whose delicate features are lit by lightning, who grins a grin of conspiracy with hints of I-can’t-believe-I-kept-this-party-a-secret. She balances a platter of cupcakes on the palm of her hand, each one iced in magenta frosting, with the letter “M” scrawled across their tops in lilac gel. 

“Happy birthday, M.” Evie’s voice is as faint and fiery as the candle flickering in the center of a cupcake. “With the school on lockdown, we couldn’t do much. I hope you like it?”

“It’s perfect.” Mal’s words push through her tightened throat, which is thick with emotion. “C’mere.” She opens her arms for the girl whose smile dances in the candlelight.

“Candle first.” Evie crosses to Mal’s bed. “Then cuddling.” 

Mal slides her lips into a pout.

"Don't you pout at me." Evie tilts her head, heightening the slope of her smirk. “Make a wish instead.” She holds out the platter of cupcakes.

Mal fakes an over-the-top sigh. "Fine. If you insist." But her gaze is forged with Evie's, and the end result makes her heart flip.

Lightning flashes. And Evie becomes a silver silhouette.

A silhouette who exists in a world separate from everyone else. Everyone except Mal.

 _I wish to keep you…_ Mal leans toward the cupcakes, forming an oval with her lips _…safe. I wish to keep you safe._ She blows until the candle flickers and the fire fades. 

“What did you wish for?” Evie’s voice is as whisper-quiet as the rain pattering outside the window.

 _You. Everything Evie._ Mal takes the platter from her hand. And sets it on the bedside table. “If I tell you, it won’t come true.” She pats her bed. “You promised cuddling.”

Evie bounces onto the bed. And curls into Mal’s side, all warmth and intoxicating Evie scent. “I missed you in class today.”

Mal glides her fingers along Evie’s arm, a gentle touch. “After the Fairy Godmother fiasco, I needed an artist’s break.” _And a villain’s bout of breaking and entering._

But she doesn't give life to the thought. Instead, she tilts her head toward her sketchbook, which lies beside her on the bed.

Mal has formed Evie from the softest edges, the smoothest curves. The prettiest of stars dance in her best friend’s sketch-book eyes.

“It’s beautiful, M.” Evie rests her cheek on the arc of Mal’s shoulder. “You’re such a good artist.”

“It isn’t the artist, E.” Mal nuzzles Evie’s head. “It’s the subject.”

Thunder clashes, mingling with the scrape of a chair and a sharp cough. Evie is no longer silhouette, but flesh and blood, cuddled to Mal’s side.

And Mal’s friends have made themselves comfortable around their room, each of them biting back smirks, staring anywhere but at Mal and Evie.

“So.” Jay drums his fingers against the back of Mal’s desk chair.

“So.” Carlos curls up on the sofa, staring at his feet.

“So.” Dude curls up beside Carlos, holding his paws over his eyes.

“So.” Jane slides back against Evie’s headboard, looking at her nails.

“So.” Lonnie sits cross-legged beside Jane, her dark eyes gleaming with lightning and mischief. “I hear you almost took on Fairy Godmother. How’d that turn out?”

Mal cringes. “Not great.”

“She almost got herself expelled.” Carlos chews around a mouthful of chocolate.

Jane twists her hands. “Yikes. Mom’s pretty hard to take when it comes to confrontations.”

“Tell me about it.” Mal snuggles closer to Evie. “She said I was intimidating.”

“That’s because you were, M.” Evie turns her face into Mal’s neck. Her mouth is soft. Her breath is warm.

Mal shivers. “I didn’t mean to be.”

“I know.” The words are a brush of lips against Mal’s skin.

Jay clears his throat, the sound piercing and exaggerated. 

Evie startles and turns her face from Mal’s skin.

“What the hell, Jay?” Mal picks up her pencil and tosses it at him.

He catches it mid-air. “Oh, sorry.” Grinning a lazy grin, he tosses the pencil back at Mal. “That was loud.”

“You think?” In the absence of Evie’s lips, Mal’s skin is cold. And so she taps into the warmth of her dragon, and pins Jay with a glare of electric green.

Jay winks. And reaches for an open bag of popcorn, spilling yellow kernels across Mal’s desk. “Oops.”

“You’re cleaning that up later.” Mal points at him.

Jay just shrugs.

From her perch on Evie's bed, Lonnie pulls a purple balloon onto her lap. “So.” She bats at the purple sphere. “What did you confront FG about?”

“Monsters.” Jay tosses a stream of kernels into the air, catching a few in his mouth, but scattering most onto the floor. “Mal thinks we have them in Auradon.”

“God, Jay.” Evie wrinkles her nose. “Keep the popcorn in your mouth.”

“No promises.” Jay tosses a few more kernels into the air. They all rain down upon the floor.

“That’s it.” Evie joins Mal in finger pointing. “I’m with Mal. You’re on cleaning duty.”

Jay grins and crunches on a kernel.

“Much as I love to see Jay getting schooled,” Carlos says, popping a miniature bar of chocolate into his mouth, “I wonder if we can return to the discussion of monsters.” His freckles pop out onto his skin, which is pale in the glow of lightning.

“You sure?” Jane whispers. “Mom says there are no monsters in Auradon.” Her hair falls over her face, hiding her eyes.

“Oh, there are.” Lonnie yanks on the balloon string. She lets the purple sphere float upward, then tugs it back down again. “Mom and Dad fought them in the war. You know. The one right before Auradon became Auradon.”

 _The Dawn of Auradon: Ending a Reign of Terror._ The title of the banned book, the one locked behind chains.

Tangled together with Evie, Mal jolts upright. She’s been looking for clues and truth in books and parks. She never thought to question the other kids. The ones who grew up in Auradon. _Maybe they know things, too._

Mal locks eyes with Lonnie. “What do you mean?” Her voice edges like the blade of a pirate’s sword, sharp and pointed toward bounty. “What war? What monsters?”

“Well.” Lonnie rolls the balloon in her hands. “Auradon was in shambles when the villains were relocated to the Isle. Abuse of magic had almost destroyed the entire landscape. But it did something else, too.”

Evie clutches Mal’s hand. “What? What did it do?”

Lonnie captures her bottom lip between her teeth. Swallows. And starts again. “I don’t know everything. But Mom tells me that it left a shadow. It tainted people. And when magic was banned…”

“What?” Mal squeezes Evie’s fingers. “When magic was banned, what?”

Carlos freezes with a chocolate bar halfway to his mouth.

Jay drops a scattering of popcorn.

Dude sits upright, his brown eyes wide and liquified in the light of the storm.

Jane is a shadow. A girl hidden from the light. “The tainted went looking for it.”

“And?” Mal links her fingers with Evie’s. Their hands form a shivering knot.

Lonnie squeezes the balloon between both her hands, making it squeak. “They couldn’t handle being in a world without magic. Which was weird, because most were non-magic users. But something about magic had tainted them. And when Auradon banned magic…”

“Come on, Lonnie.” Mal’s words are clipped. “Tell the rest of the story.”

“Yeah.” Carlos pulls Dude onto his lap, soothing the dog with strokes of his hand. “What happened?”

"They stormed the kingdom." Lonnie releases the balloon. It floats up to Evie’s canopy, where it swings and bobs. “And they tried to kill King Beast, so were put to death by guillotine.”

Evie pulls back a trembling breath. 

All Mal can think is that Evie must be remembering her own dreams.

She smoothes Evie's hand with thumb-circles. “They don’t have that in the history books.”

“They sure don’t," Jay says.

Lonnie nods. “They also don’t tell you that some of the executed were seen after their deaths. That they were searching for that which was taken – magic. And blood.”

Jane squirms on Evie’s bed, still a shadow unlit even by the flash of the storm. “That’s why Mom’s so adamant about not using magic. She’s afraid it will taint people. Turn them into monsters.”

 _Taint people. Because magic tainted them in the past._ Mal lifts Evie's hand to her chest, where her heart thrashes against her rib cage. “But that’s ridiculous. Just because magic tainted people in the past doesn’t mean that it’ll taint them again. Some of us are born magical. And we don’t misuse our gifts. We embrace them.” _Especially when magic can help us protect the people we care about._ She brushes a kiss across Evie's knuckles.

Evie's head falls onto Mal's shoulder.

“Auradon has always been an all-or-nothing kind of kingdom.” Carlos cuddles Dude. “Guess this is the nothing.”

“But it isn’t nothing.” Mal’s words are forged from fire. “Magic has existed since the dawn of Auradon. Not as much as before, but it’s still out there.” She leans forward. “Guys, we live in a kingdom full of magic. Why are the tainted only attacking now?”

Evie lifts her head. “And for that matter, where have they hidden all this time?”

Lightning flashes, illuminating ghost-white faces.

Lonnie shakes her head.

Jane raises her shoulders.

Jane, the girl so frightened by the talk of monsters and death, she hides behind the shield of her own hair. Jane, a fairy who, like Mal, has magic burning through her blood.

 _She’s defenseless._ Mal sinks her teeth into her lip. _Helpless because her mother taught her to hide. Hide from the very thing that makes her_ Jane.

Silence descends. Silence so thick, it’s a living, breathing entity.

Silence broken only when Mal’s friends begin to stand.

“Well, much as I love this talk of monsters,” Carlos says, his mouth stained with chocolate, “I have homework.”

“Yeah.” Pushing from Mal's chair, Jay stoops to pick up a pile of popcorn. “And weight training.”

“Happy birthday, Mal.” Lonnie curls her lips into a spasm of a smile. “Enjoy the cupcakes.” She follows Carlos, Dude and Jay out the door.

Shadow-Jane slides from Evie’s bed, walking to the door without a word. Even her footsteps are muted by the rain splattering against the windowpane. Just as she reaches the threshold, she freezes. 

“Oh. I almost forgot.” She turns and pulls a box with a purple bow from her pocket. “Ben asked me to give you his gift.”

She rushes across the room to Mal, dropping the package onto Mal’s bed.

“Thanks, Jane.” Mal picks up the box and shakes it. The contents clatter.

She grips the bow, ready to slide it off, when she realizes Jane is still staring. And there's something hidden in Jane's wild blue gaze.

“I know magic isn’t absent from Auradon,” Jane whispers. “It’s what the blood seekers want most. That, and revenge.”

The present falls from Mal’s fingers. “Revenge against who? King Beast? Your mom?”

"No. Not just them." Jane dips her gaze beneath her hair. “I’ve gotta go. I have homework, too.” She races to the door.

“Jane, wait!”

But Jane is already closing the door behind her, leaving Mal sitting on her bed with Evie, who watches Mal.

Fear is biting through Evie's eyes. Fear Mal doesn't know how to soothe.

Denial is no longer a weapon.

For the first time, the monster isn't just a prophecy or a quest for knowledge. Death has just become all too real.


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After spending three weeks penning the _Hearts of Fabric, Paint and Snow_ series, I wasn't sure how I'd feel skipping from pure romance back into the unadulterated angst of _Fire and Fangs_. Luckily, the transformation was smoother than I thought. Even so, writing _Hearts_ transformed my heart, both as a writer and as a Malvie shipper. As such, I have made some changes to this story, as you might notice in the tags and the story length (what was once 11 chapters might become 14 or even 18; I wrote a pinnacle scene last night that promises to transform this story, but I'm not quite sure how). Also, there will be some racy scenes (a tamer one in Chapter 10, and a sexier than sin one a little later on). This means the rating might tip to "mature," at least for those chapters. I hope this works for all of you.
> 
> So without further ado, I bring you...

**Chapter Six**

* * *

  
It found me in the moonless night  
Within the shroud of mud  
Ghostly and with fang’s sharp bite  
It stole from me my blood  


\- Anonymous 

* * *

****

****

Silence shrouds the room, descending like a skin-tight sheet formed around their deadening world. 

A world where lightning mutilates the darkness, slicing it into fragments of shadow and light. A world where thunder sounds its death-knell. A world broken up by the tick-tick-tick of time exploding from Mal’s bedside clock.

Mal’s muscles form a living knot of tension.

Evie has magic. The tainted want it.

Evie’s been dreaming about death. The tainted are death-bringers.

“M?” Evie’s fingers ghost over Mal’s hand. “What are you thinking about so hard?”

Mal’s eyes sting with the threat of tears. “I can’t lose you.”

“Hey.” Evie’s voice is spun from silk. “Do you really think I’d leave you?”

“I’ve always known how to protect you.” Mal rests her head on Evie’s shoulder. “But I was wrong.” She closes her eyes. Squeezes them tight. “Your prophecies. They’re real.” _And I don’t know how to protect you from things I cannot see._

“Or maybe they’re just dreams.” Evie spins a strand of Mal’s hair between her fingertips. “Or maybe they’re just warnings. And my big bad dragon will save me from the monsters.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” _But what if I can’t?_ Mal punches her knuckles into her eyelids, trapping her renegade tears.

“You know.” Evie leans toward the nightstand covered in cupcakes, cradling the back of Mal’s head so it stays on her shoulder. “You haven’t even had a cupcake yet. What kind of best friend would I be if I didn’t feed you sugar on your birthday?” She lifts a cupcake from the platter.

Mal’s smile is a wobbly thing. “Not really hungry.”

“Well, that’s too bad.” Evie breaks off a piece, revealing a plump strawberry which peeks from the layers of white cake. “Because they’re made with fresh strawberries.” She dangles the treat beneath Mal’s nose.

The smell is tantalizing. Fruity and sweet. Mal’s tastebuds explode with desire. “You’re so evil,” she croaks.

“Rotten to the core.” Evie pushes the piece of strawberry to Mal’s mouth.

Mal takes the cupcake into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the strawberry. 

But Evie’s fingers are still wrapped around the treat, and Mal swirls her tongue around them, too.

Evie sucks back a breath. “Um.” She swallows. “Just…” Her gaze darts to Mal’s lips. To Mal’s eyes. To her lips. “Just the cupcake, M.”

Mal’s eyes fly wide. “Oh.” She separates the treat from Evie’s fingers. And tips backward. Back against her headboard, which bangs against the wall.

Silence. Silence scattered between shallowed breaths.

Evie’s fingers drift to her mouth. Pink icing coats her fingertips. She cleans them with her tongue. 

A tongue with a delicate pink tip, which she flits across her fingers. Swirls around their tips. Catlike.

Mesmerizing.

Mal carves her teeth into her bottom lip, tasting strawberry. Tasting Evie.

The cupcakes are delicious. Mal wants another taste.

Evie’s tongue slips back inside her mouth. “M?”

“Hmm?” Mal stares at Evie’s lips, hoping for another glimpse of that delicate pink tip.

Evie trembles on a breath. “Maybe you should open Ben’s gift.”

 _Ben?_ A familiar sound. _Ben._ Mal blinks. Tries to fit a meaning with the syllable.

Evie’s lips are strawberry-pink. And plump. Plump like Mal’s favorite fruit. Mal’s tastebuds explode again with desire.

“Mal.” Evie’s tone sharpens. Sharpens as if carved from strawberry-pink gemstones. 

Maybe Evie’s sharp tongue tastes like strawberries, too.

Mal flits her tongue across her lips. Searching for the taste.

Evie plucks an object from Mal’s lap. “Ben’s gift?” She shakes a box wrapped with a purple bow.

 _Oh._ Mal pulls her tongue back inside her mouth. _Ben._ “Right.” She takes the box from Evie.

Evie, whose cheeks are stained pink. Whose eyes glitter with mischief. “Good girl.”

“Good girl?” Mal tosses her a look. “I’m not a pet, E.”

“Mmm.” Evie’s plump lips curve into a smirk. “You sure about that, M?”

Infernos of flame flicker to life within Mal’s cheeks. “I’ll deal with you later.” She points a finger at her best friend. 

Evie’s mischievous gaze darkens and smolders. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Her words dance with promises. 

Promises that make Mal’s heart dance, too. Dance to a beat that is both wild and free.

Evie lifts the corner of her lips into a half-smile. “The gift?”

“I’m getting to it.” Mal’s fingers tremble around the purple bow. She yanks it from the giftbox. Lifts the lid. And discovers a bed of cotton, upon which rests a golden locket.

“Pretty,” Evie says.

“Yeah.” Mal touches the locket. “It is.”

Heavy and heart-shaped, it frames a photo Mal took with Ben back when it was just Mal-and-Ben, starcrossed-lovers-facing-a-kingdom-of-doubters. _Doubters who didn’t understand: Ben and I were meant to be._

Mal caresses the photo with her fingertip, and a memory springs to life. 

A memory of a lake and a boat ride and a basket full of pastries. 

A day when they’d glided in a rowboat across a lake gleaming with the golden rays of sunlight. A day when Ben had watched her through laughing lime-green eyes. 

Eyes that softened when she smiled. 

Eyes that crinkled at the corners when she stuffed her mouth full of delicacies. 

Eyes that recorded her every movement as though she were the kingdom’s most precious piece of art.

Eyes that turned serious when the boat scraped land. “I want to remember this day.” Ben stroked Mal’s hand. “Just a minute, okay?”

“Okay.” Mal licked a dollop of cream from her lips.

And Ben waved to a wizened man with a gap between his teeth. “Will you take our picture, sir?” 

“Of course, your majesty.” The man surveyed them from over the tops of his glasses. “It’s not every day I have the honor of immortalizing a young couple so deeply in love.”

 _In love?_ Mal’s insides squirmed like a barrel of snakes. Words of denial pushed against her tongue.

Denial that faded when Ben wrapped her in his arms, pulling her back against his chest.

The old man snapped the shot. Captured a moment when Mal leaned back against Ben’s chest, her mouth curved into a smile. A smile of secrets.

The secret of Ben’s warmth, wrapped around her body.

The secret of his heartbeat, thrumming against her back.

The secret that the old man who took the photo was the first of the kingdom’s non-doubters. The first to believe Mal and Ben had a chance at star-crossed love.

Mal caresses the photo, and a hollow ache seeps into her chest. In the photo is a boy with crinkled lime-green eyes, eyes so green, they’re golden. In the photo is a girl with a smile sketched from secrets and eyes sparkling with hope.

She can’t remember the last time Ben’s eyes crinkled when he looked at her.

She can’t remember the last time she felt safe in his arms. Even when her world fractured with the discovery of Chad’s bloodless corpse, her instinct had been to attack Ben. Not to silence her fear with his touch.

Only one thing had broken through her stupor: The sound of Evie’s voice.

“That’s a great photo, M.” Evie’s voice is a warmth within Mal’s mind, pulling her back to the present. “You look really happy.”

“Yeah.” Mal hides the photo with her fingertip.

But again, Evie’s voice – this time from a few days before – is alive within her thoughts. Evie's voice when she asked Mal: _Are you happy with Ben?_

At the time, Mal didn’t have an answer.

She does now.

“We were happy.” _Once upon a time._

Even hidden, the photo is still there beneath her skin. Locked inside a locket. A heart-shaped weight that is delicate and royal and ornate. _Everything I’m not._

Evie takes Mal’s hand. “Why didn’t he bring it to you himself?”

Mal cannot bring herself to look at Evie. So instead, she picks at a thread dangling from her comforter. “Ben and I are fighting.”

“About what?”

Mal yanks the thread loose. Twirls it in her fingertips. “He’s issued a royal command. He’s forbidden me from doing any research into the deaths.” _As in plural._

Evie’s fingers stiffen. “He’s issuing you commands now?”

“Yup.” The word pops from Mal’s mouth. _Because he’d rather lie than protect his people with the truth._ His ring is cold against her hand. She twists it around her finger. “He doesn’t look at me like he used to anymore, either.” She abandons the ring. Reaches for the cupcake, laid upon the bed. “It’s almost like…”

“Like?” Evie’s tone is cut from broken glass.

Mal breaks off a piece of cake. Crumbles it in her fingertips. “Like he’s the boy from Auradon. And all I’ll ever be is the girl from the Isle. The one who breaks all the rules.”

“Oh, M. I’m so sorry.” There is an undercurrent in Evie’s words. An undercurrent that speaks of protectiveness and best friendship and all-things-Mal-and-Evie. _The space between._

“It’s okay.” Mal curls her lips into a smile. A smile that flat-lines when she meets Evie’s eyes.

Her best friend’s gaze is penetrating. It slips deep inside. So deep, it’s almost as if Evie is reading all the secrets scrawled across Mal’s soul.

All the secrets Mal wants her to know.

Evie’s fingers trace Mal’s cheekbone. Curl around its curve. 

Mal blinks. Once. Twice. She has never let anyone get this close. _Not even Evie._

But Evie holds Mal’s face in the palm of her hand. And she does not let go. “I see you, M.”

 _What do you see, E?_ Mal attempts to spell the question with life, but the words are trapped within her throat.

Evie lifts a delicate eyebrow. “Do you want me to put the locket on for you?” Is the question she asks, but it’s almost like she’s asking something else instead. _Do you want me to be here?_ and _Do you want me to help you forget about Ben?_ and really, just: _Do you want me?_

The answer curls upon Mal’s tongue, so dragon-fierce with emotion, it almost makes her choke. 

So she nods instead. Because she has always wanted Evie. Even before she realized what her feelings meant.

A wave of pain splashes across Evie’s face, washing into her eyes, which shimmer in the broken light. “Turn around then.”

And Mal realizes she didn’t answer any of Evie’s unspoken questions. 

She’s just told Evie she wants to wear Ben’s heart. Which means she’s still rejecting Evie’s.

“Evie –”

“Turn around, M.” Evie slips the locket from the box. “And lift your hair.”

Mal gazes into her best friend’s eyes, hoping her own eyes reflect the truth of words she still cannot say, thrilling when Evie blinks and the teary shimmer of her gaze transforms into stardust.

And then Mal turns around. And lifts her hair. 

Because if Evie is putting a locket around her neck, that means she will be close. And maybe when Evie is close and Mal is turned, she can finally speak the truth scrawled in italics across her heart.

Evie circles the locket around Mal’s neck. And scoots closer. So close, Mal’s skin scorches.

It is just Evie. It is just Mal.

And Evie is taking much too long to move away, even though she has already fastened Mal’s locket. 

Her fingers slide across Mal’s neck. Stroking Mal’s skin.

Her touch is a spark of static, a flash of flame. 

Flame that ignites beneath Mal’s skin, stealing her breath.

Somewhere deep inside, a renegade voice whispers: _Ben. Don’t forget Ben._ Her boyfriend’s name sinks through her thoughts, as heavy as the weight that hangs around her neck. A heart-piece of gold, leaden with memory.

She should stop this. Stop Evie from getting too close. Stop Evie from touching her.

But Evie is everything.

And Evie’s touch is a live-wire. It kindles fire, consuming everything else. Air. Thought. Gravity. 

Without gravity, there is no weight around Mal’s neck.

Without gravity, Mal’s head is heavy. It tips to the side, providing Evie with more space to work her touch. 

“Evie.” The name floats from Mal’s tongue.

Evie places her lips to Mal’s ear. “Mal.”

They are floating.

Floating in a world that is just them.

Evie’s fingers zigzag across Mal’s skin. “You never answered my question.” Her voice is satin and husk. “Are you happy with Ben?”

 _Ben._ The name slips through Mal’s mind. 

But Evie’s touch has slipped inside as well. 

Mal’s head is foggy. So foggy, there are no thoughts. Only truth. “No.”

Evie’s mouth dips to the curve of Mal’s shoulder. Her breath is a wave of warmth against Mal’s skin. “Who makes you happy, M?”

“You.” It is an explosion of breath, burning from her lungs.

“You for me, too.” Evie’s voice curls with happiness. And her lips descend, fluttering kisses onto Mal’s neck. Kisses that tingle. Kisses that spark.

“Closer, E.” Mal reaches back. Slips her fingers through Evie’s hair. Pulls her so close, the curves of their bodies blend and click into the shape of their own certain puzzle.

Evie’s breasts push against Mal’s back, and when Mal slides her head further to the side, Evie’s kisses travel to the curve of Mal’s neck.

“More.” The word is a moan, bubbling from Mal’s throat.

Evie gives her more. She slips Mal’s shirt across Mal’s shoulder, baring more skin. Teases that skin with her teeth. Soothes her bites with the wet heat of her tongue.

Mal whimpers. When she breathes, she is breathing in Evie. The sweetness of Evie. The tang of Evie. Everything Evie. 

Mal wants a taste.

 _No_. She _needs_ a taste. Desire is a burning, unquenchable thirst.

So she slides her hand to the back of Evie’s neck. And she twists until they are nose-to-nose.

Their gazes interlace.

Mal ignites in the scorch of brown.

Pushing forward, she crushes her lips to Evie’s. Pushes her tongue into Evie’s mouth. Swallows Evie’s moan.

The sweetness-and-tart of Evie dances across Mal’s tongue. Words explode within Mal’s mind: _Finally. Finally. Finally-finally-finally._

She tips Evie back onto her bed. Traces Evie’s waist with her fingertips. Continues exploring Evie’s mouth with her tongue.

Evie melts into the kiss. Lifts her hand to Mal’s cheek. Strokes Mal’s skin. Moans again when Mal suckles on her bottom lip.

And then her moans transform into yelps.

Mal stills her kiss. “E?” She pushes herself up so that she is gazing into Evie’s bliss-filled brown. Brown that shimmers with a hint of pain. “What’s wrong? Did I bite you?”

“No. I…” Evie tugs at a strand of her hair. “I’m caught.” Her fingers close around a golden chain, trapped within her sapphire waves.

A golden chain linked through a golden locket, leaden against Mal’s heart. 

Realization is a lead weight, sinking through Mal’s chest. “Ben.”

Evie’s gaze springs to Mal’s. “What?”

Mal’s gaze tips to the locket. “I cheated on Ben.” She unclasps the locket from around her neck.

Evie catches it in her palm. “Oh, M. Please don’t feel guilty about this.” She clenches her fingers around the locket and yanks it from her hair.

The golden chain is speckled with sapphire. The color of Ben. The color of Evie. _What did I just do?_ “This isn’t how it was supposed to go, E. You and me.” Mal sits up, crashing back against the headboard. “You deserve better. And so does Ben. He trusts me.”

“Ben stifles you.” Evie tosses the locket back into its box. “Has been stifling you for months.” She closes the locket away with a snap of the lid. “Mal, you ran away to the Isle because you couldn’t take it anymore. And aside from a really beautiful stained-glass window, nothing’s changed since you’ve come back.”

 _But something did change._ Mal slides from the bed. Stumbles to the bed post. _We shared true love’s kiss._ She fists the post in her hand. And dips her head. “I can’t believe I did this.”

And she realizes: The reason she couldn’t answer Evie’s questions earlier wasn’t just because of the intensity of her feelings for her best friend. It was because she’s still committed to the king of Auradon.

“Stop.” Evie scoots across the bed on her knees, until she and Mal are face-to-face. “I’m not going to let you beat yourself up over this. For the first time in forever, you let yourself be happy.”

“Yeah, but my happiness is gonna hurt a really good guy.” Mal closes her fist around the post so tight, her knuckles sting. _The first guy who ever saw me as something other than a villain._ “I thought I was done being evil, E.”

“But you’re not evil.” Evie slides her finger beneath Mal’s chin. “You’re just really, really loyal.” She tips Mal’s gaze to meet her own. “So loyal, you’ve been clinging to a commitment that’s killing you inside.”

Evie’s gaze is a contradiction of darkness and light. Specks of gold streak through the brown, spiraling into amber around the black. Amber that darkens into ochre with the words _loyal, clinging, killing_. 

The words echo through Mal’s mind. _Clinging-clinging-clinging. Killing-killing-killing. Loyal-loyal-loyal._ Stop. Freeze. Numb. “If I was so loyal, I wouldn’t have cheated on my boyfriend.” She closes her eyes. And steps back. Away from Evie. Into the abyss of all things cold.

“Mal – ”

“I need to go out.” _To think. To escape. To fly._ She tugs her jacket from the coat rack. “To the lake. I’m gonna…” She pushes her arms through the sleeves. Yanks up the zipper. “Give into the dragon for a bit.” _Try to get warm._

“Wait.” Evie’s voice echoes with the spirit of the girl who looked into Mal’s eyes and glimpsed her soul. “You can’t just run away. This…” She gestures to herself, to Mal. “…was the start of something. Something wonderful. It was the start of us.”

Mal breathes in deep. Breathes in the memory of all things Evie. “I know.” Tears prickle her eyes. “And part of me is so happy, E. I’ve wanted this – wanted _us_ for so long.” She swipes the tears away with her knuckles. “But another part of me is committed to someone else…And I just don’t know what to do yet. I need time to think.”

Evie’s gaze fractures into ochre-colored glass. Glass stained with her tears. “Okay.” She bows her head.

Mal’s heart tugs at her chest. Tugs toward her best friend, whose fractured gaze is hidden by her blue waves. 

Blue waves that, moments before, had been captured in the locket holding a piece of Mal’s past. _With Ben._

For the first time, Mal can’t protect Evie.

For the first time, she’s the cause of Evie’s pain.

But she can’t take that pain away. Not yet.

So she clamps her fist over her renegade heart. And she strides to the door, stepping into the hall. And she leaves her best friend crumpled in the room behind.

* * *

Mal steps through a forest which is both murky and wet.

Water drips from the dark canopy of trees, sprinkling Mal’s hair with remnants of rain. Icy droplets evade the collar of her jacket and slip down her spine, soaking into the waistband of her jeans. 

_That’s right, Mal._ She clenches her hands around her arms, rubbing furious strokes into her leather-clad skin. _Desert your best friend. Soak up your guilt by walking through the forest in a thunder storm. Best idea you’ve ever had._

Thunder clashes in the sky above, accompanied by silver streaks of lightning. A frozen wind blows through the branches of trembling trees, sinking glacial claws into Mal’s skin.

Her teeth clack together in the cold. Her fingers numb, freezing into fists. _Maybe next time, you can plunge head-first into the icy lake._ She shoves her hands into her jacket pockets, knocking her fist into her cell phone. _Or go skiing in an avalanche. That’d really diminish your guilt._ But even the warmth of leather cannot stop the rain’s glacial sting.

The only person with the power to gift Mal with warmth is the girl she left in tears upstairs. The one she promised to always protect. The one whose heart she broke instead.

The dragon rumbles inside her chest, scorching her with flame. She ignores it, traps it deep inside. She doesn’t deserve warmth right now. Not yet. _I deserve to freeze for a little bit longer._

Mal strides further into the woods, her head bowed to block the bite of rain. _Bowed like Evie’s head was bowed when she began to cry._

Mal clenches her fists. Her fingernails prick her palms. 

She savors their sting.

Beneath her knuckles, her phone vibrates. Evie’s ringtone chimes through the murky night: _That breathtaking sorceress, so lovely, so smart. That breathtaking sorceress longs to steal your –_

Mal punches the power button. Evie’s ring tone dies.

It’s the first time she’s ever refused to answer Evie’s call. 

The first time she’s ever ignored her best friend. 

Because despite Mal’s guilt, despite her pain, she will not talk to Evie. Not until she is certain that their next conversation and the next and the next won’t end with Evie in tears.

 _Just give me time, E._ Mal lifts her face to the angry sky, soaking her skin in the icy slice of rain. _Please just give me time._

Thunder booms. And lightning spills across the sky. Illuminating a world where Mal is lady. And her boyfriend is king.

Her life is not her own. 

It exists in texturized fragments of stained glass. Drafted by a boy who orders pictures built with purple hair and green eyes, everything in her likeness, but who has forgotten who she is. 

Scooters have become lockets; words of love have become words of command. Light laughs and light touches have become stares and gifts weighted like lead.

The rain pelts Mal’s cheeks, freezing her traitorous tears. 

Her phone vibrates beneath her knuckles. Evie’s ring tone drifts through the pound of rain.

Mal punches the power button. Kills her best friend’s call.

She’s not ready. Not yet.

She still needs time to think.

She may be coined lady, but she’s as much a lady as she is a villain. Her misfit boots are not lady heels; her purple leather is not lady lace.

She bows her head and marches toward the lake, her dragon’s playground.

Her feet are heavy. And Ben’s ring is ice upon her hand.

 _I love him. I know I do._ She presses her lips together, trapping a sob. _But do I love him the way I love her?_

The answer is as clear as the lightning flashing through the sky. 

_No. I never have._

Lightning colors the woods in silver shine, illuminating the trees, the lake, the thoughts within Mal’s mind. 

Reaching the lake, Mal splashes her booted toes into the frigid waters, wrapping her feet in chill. _Ben is the first boy I ever let inside._

_But Evie._ She shivers. _Evie found her way inside before I realized I’d even offered her the key. Before I even knew there was a key._ She kicks at the ice water with the soles of her boots. _And I never thought to get it back from her. I never wanted it back. I wanted to keep her deep inside._

Mal’s heart ignites with fiery warmth. 

Evie is kindness and strength. She is the grace to Mal’s rough-edge, the charm to Mal’s hard-force. She is the blue to Mal’s purple. 

Evie is fire and heat and all things flame. Flame that flares beneath Mal’s skin, warming her from the inside out.

There is no chill.

There is only Evie.

And Evie is everything warm.

 _She is everything I’ve always wanted, even before I realized I wanted her._ Mal splashes out of the lake. _Everything I’ve always needed, even before I realized I needed her._ She sprints across the gravel, crunching it beneath her boots. _I’m such an idiot! It’s always been her._

She curves her neck to block the rain from slapping her face. And tears through the trees. _It’s always been Evie._ Sticks break beneath her feet. Acorns shatter. _Always._

Mal sprints back across the path she has traveled. Back toward the dorm where she left the girl she loves.

Her breath puffs out in icy gasps. The fresh, wet zing of rain curls through her nose. She breathes in deep, ragged breaths, savoring the smell. 

But another scent snakes through the air.

A bite of burnt sulfur. _Like magic gone wrong._

The smell that drifted through BelleBeast Park, just before the hisses of _“Maleficent… Maleficent…”_

Deep within, the dragon stirs. Unfurls her wings.

Rain lashes at Mal’s skin, pricking it with ice. _The gate. I left the school gate opened when I went to BelleBeast Park. And now the park has followed me here._

She lengthens her strides, quickens her pace. Crashes through the forest, splintering sticks.

The trees push together, so close, they tear at Mal’s jacket, at the exposed flesh of her waist. She grits her teeth and ignores the pain, even as the smells of sulfur and her own blood punch through her nose.

She’s halfway to the dorms when a wild-animal whisper rakes its claws down her spine. _“Maleficent…”_

Mal’s heart thumps into her throat. _No. It's not real._ Her muscles form a living knot. _I’m imagining things. Just imagining . . ._

_“Maleficent…”_

_“Maleficent…”_

_“Maleficent…”_

The whispers snake around the forest. Almost as if the hidden animals themselves are calling Mal’s mother’s name.

_“Maleficent…”_

_“Maleficent…”_

And in every shadow, there is the furious scatter of footsteps. Whoever is calling for her mother is moving fast.

Mal tears her fists from her jacket pockets. And curls herself into a fighting stance. “You’ve got the wrong person.” Her voice twists with anger, sharpens with fear. “But if you really want to fight, I’ve got some time.”

Laughter slices through the shadows. Vicious and cold, exploding into guttural grunts. “You think you can take me, Daughter of the Beast?”

The voice is close. So close, it pushes into Mal’s space, pricking goose bumps into her skin. She whirls toward the sound.

There is no one there.

“Look, I’m really not into games,” she growls, gritting her teeth. “So if that’s what this is – ”

She is knocked face-first to the dirt by a solid force. A force so unyielding, it rips the words from her lips, tears the breath from her lungs. Manacles of iron clamp around her shoulder. Twist her until she is laying on her back, crunching dirt between her teeth. 

But they are not manacles.

They are hands.

Hands that clamp around her wrists, pulling them above her head.

Mal struggles. She curses and she kicks and she twists this way and that.

But the hands seem carved from stone. 

She is motionless. 

Motionless beneath a man who is half-spirit. Blurred as though he is a ghost. His face is chiseled from marble. Two sharp fangs peek from his blood-soaked lips. 

“Mmm.” The monster’s mouth snakes into a smirk. “I’ve been longing to sample the blood of a dragon.”

“You want a dragon?” The beast within Mal roars. “I’ll show you a fucking dragon.” She conjures an electric-green glare.

But the monster’s grip tightens. 

And his pupil-less eyes, eyes so black, stare into Mal.

Something sucks through every part of her, like it is sucking through her soul. 

The dragon whimpers. Shrivels into a ball.

Her muscles weaken.

The electricity in her eyes flickers. Dies.

And she becomes a weak and whimpering girl, trapped beneath a man who is siphoning her strength.

The creature’s body solidifies. “The taste of magic.” He licks his lips. “Thank you, daughter of Maleficent.” He is no longer half-ghost. He is solid beast.

Mal’s breath freezes into frost. _A spell. I need . . ._ A violent shiver streaks through her body. “Creature of the night…” She chokes back breath. “… be gone without a fight.”

“More magic.” The creature’s smirk slithers into a smile. “What a blessing.”

“Get away from me.” A guttural growl, punctuated by the splintering of sticks as Mal tries again to twist.

She is unsuccessful. The creature has her pinned. “Oh, I’ll get away,” he says, pouncing so that his lips hover above Mal’s throat. “But not without a taste of your blood.” He places his mouth to Mal’s pulse-point. “I think I’ll take it all.” He sinks his fangs into her skin.

Searing pain. 

Mal tries again to fight. Tries again to twist and kick. But she is weak, weaker than she’s ever been. And her body begins convulsing. 

_This is it._ Her flesh fractures into white-hot pinpricks of pain. _This is how I die._

From within the depths of Mal’s jacket, there is a vibration and a song. Evie’s ringtone.

Mal’s sole response is a soul-shattering scream.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven**

* * *

****

Soul Bond [sohl bond, n.]: A dangerous myth.

_See also:_ myths and legends dangerous to the security of the United States of Auradon.

-Auradonian Primer

* * *

Evie’s ring tone dies. Dies a fatal death, cut off in the middle of a song.

In the sudden silence, Mal swears she hears someone scream her name. A scream panicked and possessed. But familiar. So familiar.

 _Evie._ In the moments before her death, the world is taunting her with memories of Evie’s voice. _A voice I’ll never hear again._

Mal is alone.

Alone in a world of shrieking thunder and frigid rain. Alone in a world of pure, penetrating pain. 

The tainted laps at her skin. Hums his satisfaction against her flesh. “I always knew I’d love the taste of dragon blood.” He sucks and slurps at her throat.

She whimpers. Tries to speak. Tries to tell him to get away. Get away. Get the fuck away.

But words are hammered shut in the wooden coffin of her throat.

Cold. The world is cold.

And white spots. Spirits. Ghosts. Hover within Mal’s eyes. Lurking in a forest of fatal black. Dead things leading her to death.

“That’s it, Daughter of Maleficent,” the tainted moans. “Give into your death.”

 _Give in. Give in. Give in._ Numb. So, so numb. Everything is numb.

She was a fighter once. Wasn’t she?

No air. No breath. Burning, burning lungs. 

Heartbeat weakening in her ears.

Her eyes slip closed. Opened. Closed. _Fight. Fight. Fight-fight-fight._ Opened. _Are they opened?_

 _Yes. Must be._

Because she sees a portrait. A painting. A sketch of everything good and perfect and right.

A face. Filled in with a stroke of furious brown eyes. A jagged edge of full but scowling lips. And waves of liquid blue.

So solid.

Almost as if the sketch is real.

_Is the sketch real?_

Because if it is, it looks just like…“Evie…” The name is a moan. A moan torn free from the coffin of Mal’s throat.

A moan eclipsed by the tainted’s screech. A screech which heightens into a shriek and then catapults into a scream.

The tainted convulses in on itself.

It buckles forward, its shoulders crumpling.

And then it leaps back. Leaps into the air. Leaps off of Mal, howling and cursing.

“Touch her again, and I’ll fucking kill you.” The sketch’s voice is a feral growl. 

_Familiar. So familiar._ Mal twitches in the dirt.

“Well, well.” The creature’s words rumble from his throat. “The queen. Or should I say, her brat? However did you find us?”

“I have the gift of prophecy, you son of a bitch.” The rain strikes something metallic. “And I am not letting this one come true. Stay away from her.”

 _Evie. It’s really…No. Evie, run._ She tries to speak the words. Tries to scream them. But they are stuck once again in the deadened wood of her throat.

There is a splintering sound, like breaking sticks. 

And Evie’s splintering scream. “Stay back. Come any closer, and you get a sword in the heart.” Evie's growl is underscored by a clash of thunder. “I may have missed the first time, but on everything that is wicked, I swear I will not miss again.”

Images flicker through Mal’s mind. Evie. Rain. Graveyards. Tombstones. Death.

Evie’s nightmares. Prophecies.

Mal digs her fingers into the dirt. Tries to rise. Tries to stand. But she’s plastered to the mud.

She chokes and she spits and she tries again for words. “E…”

“Hold on, M.” Evie’s voice is a solid force, forged from fire, fortified with steel. “Don’t you dare leave me. Help is on the way.”

 _Help._ The word blasts through Mal’s ears and kicks her in the heart. “No.” _No one else._

She twists and she turns, but still she cannot stand. Weakness is a weight crushing her into the mud.

“You think a sword will help you escape me, Majesty?” The creature’s laughter is cruel and cold. “I’m already healing. And I’m so _hungry_.” He howls the final word.

Footsteps. Sloshing through the mud.

“I said get back!” Evie’s haunted cry.

“No.” A word burning from Mal’s throat, where it’s swallowed by a moan. _No. No. No._ She clenches her fingers into muddy fists. _I’m a fighter. Always. Always a fighter. So I have to fight._

Deep inside Mal’s soul, a fire flickers to life. And blazes into an inferno.

The fire of the fae. 

The fire of her magic. 

The fire of her dragon-heart. 

_Use me,_ whispers a voice, and she swears it is her dragon. _Draw upon my strength._

Along with the dragon’s whisper is the howl of a dog and the scattering of cries. Cries echoing from somewhere nearby, but also far away. So many cries, crying out for Evie. Crying out for Mal.

The cries of their friends.

 _No. I will not let him hurt them. And there’s no way in Lucifer I’ll let him hurt Evie._ Mal looks deep inside for the flare of flame. The powers of the fae. And finds her strength. A pinnacle of purple energy, so violet it might be blue, pulsing through her heart. _Of course._

Because where else would her strength lay hidden, but in the one place she’s kept locked up for so long?

Where else would she find her power, but in the one place she’s flung wide open now that Evie is facing off with Death?

And so she gives into thoughts of Evie. 

Evie’s warm gaze and Evie’s fiery touch and Evie’s all-consuming kiss. 

The day Evie first made Mal feel beautiful in make-up and a leather coat. 

The way they linked arms on the Isle, the day Evie risked everything to bring Mal home. 

The song they sang. _(And you can find me in the space between / Where two worlds come to meet / I'll never be out of reach...)_

The dances they shared at Cotillion. 

The way Evie feels every night spent wrapped up in Mal’s arms, on the edge of sleep and dreams.

And then in this night, in this deadened night, Evie screams. A scream that rakes itself across Mal’s heart.

And Mal reaches for her power. For the apex of blue-and-purple energy. For the pulsing glow that pulses deeper and glows brighter with each thought she embraces of the girl she loves.

Something changes.

Her skin is no longer numb, but white-hot with piercing, penetrating pain.

She cries out and she grits her teeth. Anchors herself in her love for Evie. Her blue-and-purple store of energy washes through her blood.

And the pain starts to fade. 

Fade into aches. 

Aches which fade, too. Fade from her skin. Fade from her throat. She can almost feel her skin knitting back together again.

Mal’s vision clears. The world is layers of rain and leafy trees, dripping with raindrops.

She is warm. So very warm. 

And strong. So very strong. 

And in love. So very much in love.

Regeneration is warmth and strength and the wild, pounding beat of her dragon-heart.

And Evie’s scream is shattered ice, breaking through Mal’s soul.

Mal cries the cry of a warrior possessed – or a girl in love. She pushes her palms into the squelch of mud. And flips onto her feet. 

There is no pain. 

There is only power, and the fight she forged upon the Isle. 

The dragon inside her roars, lending Mal its electric green glare. A glare she uses to search the night, seeking out Evie. Her best friend. Her everything. 

She finds Evie illuminated in a flash of silver lightning. A warrior wielding a sword, which she raises above her head like a battle axe. Sheets of rain slice down around her body, striking the ground at her feet.

But somehow, the rain is avoiding Evie.

The deluge has transformed into a shield. 

Evie is no longer girl, but sorceress. A sorceress with the power to control the rain. 

“Look at me, you wretched royal.” The tainted lurches toward Evie. “Look into my eyes.” 

“Those soulless pits?” Evie flexes her fist around the sword. “Never.”

The tainted growls. His movements are slow, like he’s struggling against the rain, as though Evie really has formed herself a shield.

But he’s moving closer. 

_Too close._

Anger burns inside Mal with the ferocity of dragon fire. She flexes her fists. And lunges for the tainted. “Back the hell away from the girl I love,” she cries, grabbing the creature by the collar of his coat. And tossing him behind her back, away from Evie.

Mal stands between them both.

The tainted’s growls cause shivers to spiral down her spine.

But all she sees is Evie. 

Evie, whose eyes glow like silver moonlight. Evie, who stares at Mal with stardust in her gaze and a smile trembling along her lips. “Mal,” she breathes, her name a caress. She lowers her sword.

And now the rain forms a shield not just around Evie. But around Mal, too. Almost as if Evie has also found a glow of blue-and-purple energy pulsing within her heart, and she’s using it to protect them both.

On the other side of their rainy shield, the tainted bares his fangs and pushes against the water. Pushing closer, but not close enough. For now, they are safe.

And with the way Evie’s gazing at her, Mal knows she has heard. _The girl I love._ So she sloshes through the mud, kicking aside sticks until she has reached Evie’s side. And she cradles Evie’s cheek. “I mean it, E. You’re the one I want. I love you.”

“And I want you.” The stardust in Evie’s eyes shimmers with tears. “I love you, too, M.”

The world flashes with lightning and rumbles with thunder. Outside their circle of rain, the tainted curses and screams – sounds which are coming closer.

But inside this rainy ring, it is just Evie. It is just Mal. Forevermore Evie-and-Mal.

Mal strokes the ridge of Evie’s cheek. And brushes Evie’s lips with a kiss of new beginnings. “Is help really on the way?”

Evie sighs. “They should have been here by now, actually.”

Mal’s forehead creases. “Where are they?”

Evie steps back, just a single step. “Look.” She waves her hand at the trees, which are surrounded by a barrier of emerald smoke. A barrier which reaches up into the treetops, solid and unaffected by the rain. “It’s been like this since I got here. I think maybe it’s keeping them out. I’m not sure how I got inside.”

Crystals of ice form in Mal’s stomach. “He stole my magic. Maybe…”

Evie casts Mal a glance of all things sharp, the stardust in her eyes hardening into a glistening glare. Thunder rages. “Remind me to have a talk with you later about how you’re not invincible, M.” She shouts the words over the echoing boom of thunder. And then she fingers the place on Mal’s throat where the tainted pierced his fangs. The wound, Mal is sure, which has since knitted itself shut. “And how—”

Mal touches her finger to Evie’s plush lips. “Question-and-answer session later, E. I promise,” she says, when Evie narrows her eyes. “Because you’re going to have to tell me what in the name of all things wicked is going on with the rain.”

Evie flicks her gaze to the sky. “I actually don’t know…”

Mal presses a groan between her lips. “That’s really not the answer I was hoping for. Because I’m going to need you to use this gift to help us fight our way out of here. If help really is coming, we’ve got to get out of here before this creep can hurt anyone else.”

Close by, so close by, the tainted roars. “Do you really think you can keep this up, Daughter of the Beast? Do you, Sorceress’s Brat?” His bellow courses through the night, just as a peal of thunder courses through the sky. “I’ve been waiting fifty years for this moment.”

Evie tenses and raises her sword, tipped with the tainted’s black blood. “Let’s do this. The longer I have to listen to this guy, the more I want to kick his ass.”

 _It’s so hot when she threatens violence._ Mal bumps Evie's shoulder. “I’m really liking feisty Evie.”

Evie catches Mal’s gaze with her smoldering brown eyes. “Then let’s get back inside so I can bring her out to play.” Her voice is infused with husk and smoke. 

Mal’s heart thumps-thumps-thumps and jackrabbits into her throat. “Right,” she croaks around her throatful of heartbeats. “Here’s what we’ll do. The trees are too close together for me to transform, so I’ll distract him with my fists. You come around from behind with your sword. Stab him through the back, into the heart this time. If you can use the rain as a weapon or a shield, do it. Okay?”

Evie arches a brow, her eyes still dark and smoky. “Sounds like a plan.” Her voice wobbles with a hint of fear. But it’s still smoky, too.

And Mal has never wanted to return to her room so badly in all her life.

So she kisses her sword-wielding sorceress one more time, a caress of lips, a touch of tongues. And then she says: “Stay alive, E. Because there’s no way I’m losing you now.”

“Now that I have you?” Evie nuzzles Mal’s nose. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Thunder rumbles and the tainted shrieks. 

Mal whirls to discover the monster feet away, standing in a glint of dragon-tongued lightning. His fangs flash crimson with Mal’s blood.

So she calls upon the creature flapping its wings inside her chest. And she calls upon her love for Evie, that blue-and-purple electric glow. She summons the beast into her eyes, which warm with a molten emerald glare. And then she sprints from Evie’s shield of rain, straight for the tainted, who fights against the deluge.

The creature flashes a feral grin.

Evie cries a feral cry. “Careful, M!”

And the rain slices against the tainted’s face. Slices down like swords. Swords which leave his flesh streaked with his own black blood.

The tainted screams.

 _Way to go, E!_ Mal pommels her fists into his gut, his eyes, his jaw, holding tight to her love for Evie, which seems to increase her strength. She has never fought this strong, this sure. It’s as if some unknown force has infused her muscles with new power.

The tainted slips back-back-back, shielding his face from the blows.

Evie sneaks around from behind, positioning her sword to slide it into the creature’s back.

Mal rains down more punches, into the tainted’s jaw, his eyes, his jaw, his nose, his jaw. Her knuckles ache; it’s as if she’s hitting marble. But still, she punches. Still, she strikes. The dragon within her roars.

And the tainted roars back. With speed born from fable, he catches her fist.

Mal chokes down a breath. Attempts to pull away.

But the tainted laughs his cruel, cold laugh. And crushes her knuckles, cracking bone.

Splintering pain.

“Mal!” Evie’s voice cracks with fear.

Mal cries out and nearly crumples, but she pulls back her fist. _Come on, E. Stab him._ She tries again to punch the tainted, this time with her uninjured fist.

Again, he catches her fist.

Panic steals the breath in Mal's throat. She twists. Tries to pull away.

But with the same speed, the tainted crushes her knuckles, cracking bone.

White spots. Spirits. Ghosts. Within Mal’s eyes. 

“Looks like you’re paralyzed, Dragon.” The tainted's voice is a sing-song thing vibrating with dark laughter.

Mal’s cry is hoarse and garbled.

Evie’s is wild and fierce. “Leave her alone, you bastard!”

Broken and blinded by pain, Mal lunges a shoulder at the tainted.

But the creature pushes her into the mud.

Her back slams onto the ground, and her head smacks something sharp. “Fuck!”

The creature leers down at her. “I’ll deal with you later, Maleficent’s Brat. For now, I have a date with a queen.” And he walks away.

Rain pelts Mal’s face, slips into her mouth, streaks down her nose. She splutters and chokes, pushing her useless fists into the mud. Her head aches from the impact of striking the ground.

And then Evie shrieks. And the thump of a body hits the mud.

And everything goes cold.

Mal curls into herself. Shifts so she can see. And discovers the tainted straddling Evie. 

“Back to where it started then,” the creature grumbles, and positions his fangs above Evie’s throat. “Thank you for this gift, your majesty.”

Rain lashes down at the creature, slices at his skin like knives.

But he is undeterred.

He slides his fangs ever closer to Evie’s pulse.

Swordless, Evie twists and turns and thrashes and screams. But the tainted has her pinned, just as he had Mal pinned before he stole her blood.

“Evie!” Mal’s voice is something otherworldly, possessed. Not her own, but something greater. Something greater that slips down deep, to the glow of blue-and-purple pulsing through her heart. _Give me power. Give me strength. I will not let her die._ She embraces the glow of her love for her best friend. And that glow kindles fire in her fists, flickering flame through her wounds.

The splintering pain fades into aches. The aches fade into nothingness. And Mal’s fists reform, solid and strong. 

And hot, so hot, as if they are aflame.

Mal raises her fists in the deluge of rain. And gasps.

Fire swirls around her fingertips. Fire red-hot like the flames which jet from her dragon’s throat, but flickering now against her pale fairy skin.

Without thought, a girl possessed, a girl in love, she leaps from the mud and rushes for the tainted, her hands outstretched.

And just before the creature sinks his fangs into Mal’s soulmate’s throat, Mal curls her fingers around the bastard’s neck and unleashes her flame into his skin.

The monster’s flesh sizzles and blisters, and with a scream ripping from his throat, he leaps from Evie and away from Mal’s lethal hands.

The glow of emerald smoke surrounding the trees sizzles and pops. And fades, disappearing entirely.

Into the clearing rushes a growling Dude plus a group of rain-soaked warriors wielding swords – Jay and Carlos and Lonnie and Ben – their weapons raised.

Mal and Evie’s friends freeze, their chests heaving with explosions of breath, their eyes flying wide.

But not as wide as the tainted’s, whose black stare resembles the terrified yet gleaming glare of prey before it’s struck by a predator. “So, Dragon." He regards Mal through narrowed eyes. "You have the power of the beast.”

Mal lifts her lip, a wild sneer, before lifting her hands, which continue flickering with flame. “You’re outnumbered. And it seems I have a new weapon. You want to play another game?”

The tainted shakes his head. “Not tonight.” He trips backward into the shadows, his preyful stare never once leaving Mal’s flaming hands.

Evie stumbles to her feet, shivering and shaking. “What’s going…” She glimpses Mal’s hands. Sucks back a breath. And claims Mal’s gaze with her wide brown eyes. “So I have water.”

“And I have fire.” Mal quirks her head, inviting Evie to her side. “Wanna join forces, E?”

Evie’s grin shakes, and then forms into something solid and sure. “I thought we already had, M.” She steps to Mal’s side. And lays her cheek on Mal’s shoulder.

Their friends form a line behind them, swords still raised high. Words are spoken – words of shock, words of observation, words that are taunting and directed at the tainted. Words Mal does not hear.

She’s too focused on the creature who has stopped beneath a tree, his features highlighted by a silver streak of lightning. He grins the fanged grin of a snake. And, his black gaze fixed on Evie, he bows. “I’ll see you soon, your majesty.”

“Like Lucifer you will,” Mal hisses, her shoulders tensing.

The tainted winks. And disappears into the trees.

Leaving Mal to put out her fire and pull the girl she loves into her arms. “Don’t worry, E. I’ve got you.”

“I’m not worried.” Evie nuzzles her face into the crook of Mal’s shoulder. “I’ve got you right back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news, dear hearts: Almost all Malvie from here on out. :-)
> 
> So, a few notes.
> 
> First, this story will definitely be tipping to a "mature" rating come Chapter Ten (there is just no way to pass off what I've written as teen). If this presents a problem, then please let me know (you don't even have to give the reason). The last thing I want to do is cut anyone off from reading this story; I can always publish the mature versions as separate fics.
> 
> Also, I have a new multi-chapter out: [_A Witch's Fairy Tale_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13288452). It's a little different, but I'd love it if you'd give it a try.
> 
> Many blessings,  
> T&L


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, finally, finally! This chapter comes to you after many hours of hard work. Even though I stay several chapters ahead of what's posted -- it helps with foreshadowing -- I sometimes discover that, when I return to revise, the chapter isn't quite what I need it to be. 
> 
> The chapter you're about to read is a turning point chapter, which means that I had to examine it from many different angles (and with many different characters' motivations in mind). I also considered comments you'd left on chapter seven; you mentioned some things you'd like to see in this chapter, and I wanted to deliver. I hope you enjoy the finished result.
> 
> By the way, if you're ever curious about where I am in the story, if you'd like to read snippets from up-and-coming chapters, or if you just want to know when the next update will be posted, I invite you to visit my blog at [truth-from-lies-within-fiction](https://truth-from-lies-within-fiction.tumblr.com).
> 
> Many blessings,
> 
> T&L

**Chapter Eight**

* * *

****

You have heard King Beast's proclamation about being careful not to disturb barriers between worlds,  
but I ask you: What is a world between? Is it a shadow, where dark hovers on the edge of light? Is it a forest,  
where nature hovers on the edge of city? Is it a dreamscape, where sleep hovers on the edge of wake?  
And what exactly exists in these worlds between that King Beast so encourages us not to disturb?

I propose to you this: Should we discover the answers, we will then discover the secret living quarters of Death.

-visiting lecturer, University of Auradon

* * *

Rain falls around them in a shield of drizzle, blurring the landscape of trees and sticks and mud.

And blurring the image of Jay. Jay, who rushes after the tainted, sword raised high. “Come on, you guys. Let’s destroy this bastard.” A war cry like shattered glass splinters from his throat.

A war cry like the growl of a mother tiger rips from Evie’s. “Jay, no.” She pushes away from Mal to launch herself at Jay, grabbing him by the elbow of his sword-arm. “Mal and I barely survived.”

Jay strains forward in Evie’s grip, his chest rising and falling in a crash of breath. “If we don’t kill him now, he’s coming back after you, Eves. He as good as said so himself.”

 _And I’ll kill him when he does._ Mal curls her fingers into fists. “I’ll be ready.” She marches to Jay’s other side and wraps a fist around his shoulder. “ _We’ll_ be ready. Me and Evie.” She tosses Evie a tight smile, and is rewarded with one in return. 

“You saw us.” Evie kneads Jay’s shoulder. “Mal has fire. I have water. We just have to figure out how to use our magic, and we’ll take this son of a bitch down.” 

Her voice is a growl that slips inside and tangles knots through Mal’s stomach. _She’s so fucking hot when she’s feisty._  
  
“Yeah. About that.” Carlos shouts over a crash of thunder. “Someone want to tell me how a minute ago, Mal had fire at her fingertips?” He pushes forward to the trio of Four, cradling a shivering Dude in his arms. “And how Evie used the rain to make herself move faster the second she heard Mal’s scream?”

 _Move faster?_ Mal tilts her head at Evie. “What’s he talking about, E?”

Evie shakes her head. “I don’t know.” Her voice breaks in frustration. “I don’t know how I did any of the things I did tonight.”

Jay swivels to face her. “Evie, I’ve never seen anyone run like you did.” He blinks the raindrops from his eyes. “I’ve never seen you run like that. You rode the rain like Chad used to ride surf boards.”

Mal’s heart bottoms. _Chad._ Her mind flickers through fragmented images of a bloodless corpse and the puncture marks of fangs. _That was almost me tonight_. She shivers in the frozen fall of rain. _It’s really time to get the fuck back inside_.

But then… _Evie rode the rain?_ She reclaims Evie’s gaze. “Is that true? Did you really run that fast?”

A poisoned-apple flush slips across Evie’s cheeks. “I heard you scream, M. All I could think about was saving you from that monster.” She reaches out, stroking her finger along Mal’s jaw. “I’m the only one who gets to make you scream.”

 _Are you now?_ The throatiness of Evie’s voice does dangerous things to Mal’s mind, short-circuiting everything but Mal’s dragon-fire desire to drag Evie back to their dorms and discover the meaning of her during-battle promise to _bring feisty Evie out to play_.

The throatiness of Evie’s voice has an effect on Evie, too. The moment the words fall from her lips, her eyes flare wide and her poisoned-apple flush transforms into a furious blush. “Um, that came out differently than I heard it in my head.”

“Sure about that?” Jay winks at Carlos.

Carlos hides his smirk behind his hand. “Sounds about right to me.”

“Does it now?” Evie glowers, her eyes as molten as the spring storm. 

Lightning flares through the sky. 

Forks down through the trees. 

And strikes the ground between their feet, ripping up dirt.

The boys shout and jump backwards.

“Oops…” Evie casts a glance at the spellbound sky. 

“Um…” Mal presses her fingers to her lips, which spasm with laughter. “You two might not want to piss Evie off now that she’s transformed into a goddess.”

“Yeah.” Carlos rubs the back of his head, staring at the fissured ground. 

Jay strings his fingers through his rain-soaked hair, staring open-mouthed at Evie. “You’re dangerous when you’re in love.”

Evie winks at Mal. “Mal’s pretty dangerous, too.”

And the bang of a hard object smacking into the trunk of a tree echoes through the clearing.

A sound infused with so much rage, it ricochets off the tree’s trunk and rakes its claws down Mal’s spine. _Oh, Lucifer._ Shivers bite into Mal’s skin.

Because the sound came from one of their friends.

And there’s only one person who would make a sound like that after hearing Evie’s declarations of love. _Ben._

“Cool trick with the fire and the rain, girls.” Lonnie rushes into the crowd of Four, her rain-purpled lips forced upward into a smile too-bright. “But if we’re not going after that thing, maybe we should get back into the dorms before…”

An icy wind rushes through Mal’s ears, numbing her from the inside out. _Ben knows._ She drops her frozen face into her frozen hands. _He knows about me and Evie._ She swivels toward the sound of rage, moving as though through a waterfall of frost. _He knows that I cheated._  
  
Ben stands beneath the rain-dripping branches of an oak tree, his eyes dark flames in a face much too pale. “The girl you love, Mal?” The shadow of the beast lurks within his voice. 

In his hand is a sword, the hilt of which is knocked against the tree.

 _He heard._ Mal’s stomach frosts to ice. “Ben.” She stumbles toward him, reaching out for his sword-free hand.  
_  
_ He yanks it away, sheathing it behind his back. He leaves only his sword-bearing fist, the weapon pointed right at Mal. “Is it true?” He shouts the words above a boom of thunder. “Do you love Evie?”

“I…” _How do I tell Ben I cheated on him?_ Mal swallows an icy lump that tastes like lies.

She cannot lie. 

Not about Evie. 

And not about this. 

“Yes,” she whispers.

Ben scorches Mal with the dark fire of his gaze. A gaze so heated, it sears its hurt and fury into her soul.

“I’m sorry.” She tries again to reach for him.

He angles himself away. “Don’t. Just don’t.” Sighing, he tilts his head against the tree. And bashes the hilt of his sword into the trunk. “I should have guessed.” Another bash of his sword. “But you always were good at telling lies, weren’t you, Mal?”

“Yes.” Another whisper, this one quieter than the first.

“Okay.” Jay sloshes through the mud, stepping between Mal and Ben. “I think Lonnie’s right. We should probably –”

Mal whips up her hand. “Quiet, Jay.” 

Jay holds out his arms as if in defeat, but remains stationed between Mal and the boy with the sword.

“Mal.” Evie’s voice is at Mal’s ear. “This isn’t the best place. Or really, the right time.”

And Evie’s right. That beast could come back.

But there’s also a beast present in Ben’s voice, in his eyes. And she’s not going anywhere until she finds a way to soothe the boy she’s caused so much pain.

So she reaches behind herself, seeking out and finding Evie’s hand. “Wait for me inside, E.” She squeezes Evie’s fingers. “I need to do this alone.”

“If that’s really what you want.” Evie presses her lips to Mal’s knuckles. “I won’t stand in your way. But I’m having a talk with Ben first.”

Mal tightens her fingers around Evie’s. “A talk with Ben?”

“He's too battle hungry, M. I want a word before I leave you alone again." There, in the texture of her words, is the ghost of Isle Evie -- the girl who learned to face her fears in order to stand up for her friends.

A warmth spreads through Mal's chest. _Always looking out for me._ “Evie –”

“Are you sure you want to stay out here?” Dude trots up beside them, peering up through his sugar-brown eyes. “It’s best not to have heart-to-hearts in places where the trees have fangs.”

Mal blinks at the dog. _In places where the trees have fangs?_ Something about the statement prickles at her skin. But she pushes it aside. _He’s a dog, Mal. Get a grip._  
  
“Come on, buddy.” Carlos scoops Dude from the ground, cradling him in his arms. “Let’s get back inside where it’s dry.” He carries him to the edge of the trees, joining Lonnie on the path leading back to school. 

The dog stares at Mal over Carlos’ shoulder, his gaze unblinking. “Don’t stay outside too long.”

Mal shivers in the icy rain. “Thanks for the warning. Dog.”

Jay is still stationed between Mal and Ben, his mouth puffed into a frown. “You know,” he says, reaching out for Ben’s sword, which is still pointed at Mal, “I think I’ll take the deadly weapon with me.”

“Fine.” Ben pushes the sword into Jay’s hand. “If anything happens, I’m sure Mal can take care of herself.” The words are brittle and sharp, like shards of ice.

They scrape at Mal’s heart, turning it to frost.

Jay balances both swords and knocks his shoulder against Mal’s. “The next few minutes are gonna suck,” he whispers, “but you’ll get through them. Me and Carlos are here if you need us. Well, mostly Carlos.” He hides his gaze behind a fall of his hair. “But me, too.”

And just like that, the ice around Mal’s heart melts. “Thanks, Jay.”

“Sure.” He knocks Mal’s shoulder a second time, then strides away toward the path, joining the others at the foot of the dripping trees.

Evie clears her throat. “Okay.” She steps around Mal, slipping into the space between Mal and her soon-to-be-ex, the guy so closed off, even his eyes are squeezed shut. “Here’s how this next conversation is going to work.”

 _Oh, right. The promise of 'a word'._ Mal shifts in the dirt, raising her brows. _And is that Isle Evie?_  
  
There’s a guarded gleam in Evie’s eyes that matches the twisted lift of her lips, raised in a half-smile that vows retribution should she be ignored.

Ben snaps his eyes opened and glares. “Are you really about to issue me an order? You just stole my girlfriend, Evie.”

“E…” Mal curls her fingers around Evie’s arm. “Maybe you should join the others.” Jay, Carlos, Lonnie and Dude, who are all still huddled on the path, watching the scene unfold before them through horror-struck eyes.

“I will.” Evie flexes and unflexes her fingers around her sword, which gleams in her fist, crusted with the tainted’s black blood. “But first…Ben, I’m sorry. I really am. You’re a really good guy. I never wanted to hurt –”

“Stop.” Ben launches himself off the tree. “Just stop. I’ve seen you, Evie.” He jabs his finger at Evie, who trips two steps back. “You’ve been trying to make this happen for months. Ever since we came back from the Isle.”

She teeters backward and forward on her heels, almost as if she’s trying to decide whether to talk or fight. Her sword droops in her fist until it sticks into the mud. 

But she plants her feet. 

And sets her jaw. 

“Here’s the thing, Ben.” She forges ahead, her words tangled together. “I feel terrible about hurting you and how you found out. And I really am sorry. Not because I love Mal.” Her voice slows and dips into a whisper, a caress, her feelings reflected in the shimmering gaze she offers Mal. “Never about that.”

“Good to know.” The words are a growl ripped from between Ben’s gritted teeth.

“Evie,” Mal murmurs her name. A plea, a Lucifer’s prayer. _I love you, too. Now go inside._

But Evie shakes her head. Across her features are scrawled the words _let me do this, M_ and _it’s my fight, too_. 

Mal sighs and holds out her hands. _If you must._

 __Evie returns her gaze to the feral glint in Ben’s eyes. The rain picks up speed, pummeling down in sheets. “I’m sorry that my love for Mal hurt you, Ben.” She stalks forward a single step. “But if you take that tone with Mal – if you hurt her in any way ever again –”

“Evie.” This time, Evie’s name pushes from Mal’s tongue in jagged angles and bold lines. “I don’t think –”

“No, Mal.” Ben stalks forward two strides, bringing himself nose-to-nose with Evie. “I really want to hear your new girlfriend’s ultimatum.”

Mal sighs and sinks back onto her heels. “Of course you do.”

Someone nearby lets out a low whistle. Probably Jay. Still staring open-mouthed with their friends at the horror show that is Mal’s love life.

But Evie’s front-and-fucking-center. 

A crash of thunder peals through the sky. “If you hurt Mal ever again,” she says, flexing her fist around her sword, “then that’s not going to be okay. And if you keep her out here where she almost died just so you can throw a temper tantrum? Then it’ll be even worse. I’ll make sure of it.”

“And tell me, Daughter of the Evil Queen, Granddaughter of the Evil Sorceress,” Ben growls, rolling his fingers into fists, “what will you do to me if I break your command?”

Evie’s gaze blazes and burns.

And a fork of lightning zaps through the trees, striking the ground behind Ben. But this time, it doesn’t just rip up dirt. It tears at the back of Ben’s boot, avoiding skin, but creating the stench of charred rubber. 

Ben yelps. “Did you really just attack me with lightning?”

“I’m sorry, Ben.” Evie caresses her sword’s hilt with her fingertips. “I still don’t know how to control my powers.” 

But there’s a hint of Isle menace in her voice.

“Evie!” _Enough._ Mal springs to Evie’s side, grabbing her elbow. “Come on.”

But Evie stands firm, her glare fixed on Mal’s ex.

And Ben glares back, glowering at Evie as though he’s just uncovered each of her secrets, and none of them are good. “Ultimatum accepted.” He squares his shoulders. “Now would you mind going inside so my ex-girlfriend can finish breaking my heart?”

“It’s okay, E.” Mal’s voice twists with compassion, with pain. “I’ll be right behind you.”

Evie relaxes back into Mal’s embrace. “Promise?” is what she says, but her voice says so much more. _Promise you won’t get hurt_ and _promise you won’t leave me_ and _promise you won’t stay outside and die_.

Mal caresses Evie’s cheek, sliding a soaked tendril of blue behind her ear. “I promise.”

Ben narrows his eyes at their embrace. And hangs his head, stumbling backward into the lightning dirt.

“Okay.” She slips from Mal’s touch and steps toward the path. Just before she joins their friends, she glances back. “I really am sorry, Ben.”

Ben waves his hand, but keeps his gaze lowered to the dirt.

Evie smiles at Mal, a smile of half-moons and secrets, and then joins their group of friends.

Lonnie wraps her arm around Evie’s shoulders. “You’re really going to have to tell me how you’re controlling the weather,” she says, stepping with Evie down the path, following the boys and Dude through the trees. “It’s so cool.”

Evie flings back her head. “Well, I’m not…”

Her voice trails off and they disappear from sight, leaving Mal alone with Ben.

Ben scuffs his toe into the dirt, as if attempting to bury his broken heart with the sole of his boot. “Evie’s right.” His voice hardens on her name. “We shouldn’t stay out here.”

“Okay.” Mal’s lips shape the word, but it falls soundless from her mouth. She clears her throat. “Where do you want to go?” These words are thick, throaty with emotion. Shaped from feelings of _I’m sorry_ and _I never meant to hurt you_ and _please just look at me_.

Ben swallows. “I really don’t know.” But he moves toward the path leading back to school, his head bowed, his gaze angled away from Mal. “You coming?”

“Yeah.” Mal stumbles forward. “Yeah, let’s do that.” 

Theirs is a world of silence, broken apart by the slosh of their shoes across the mud and the strike of rain slicing through the trees and the rumble of thunder breaking through the sky.

There is no talking.

There is barely breath. Mal’s lungs toy with the air, keeping it trapped until it burns. 

But even as she steps through this newest gauntlet of pain, the deluge of rain diminishes into a drizzle, the water warm upon Mal’s skin. _Evie._ Mal releases a burning breath. _Always finding ways to take care of me._  
  
And Mal can no longer stay silent. The mud fades into concrete, the trees fade into the silhouette of buildings, and Mal’s burning breaths fade into warmth, freeing her to talk. “If I said that I’m sorry, would you believe me?”

Ben trips over the toe of his boot. His shoulders heave with the tension of breath. “How long?”

“What?”

“How…” He punctuates the word by kicking a stone. “…long?”

The stone skips across the concrete, slamming into a pole.

For a breath-burning moment, Mal wishes she could join it. “I don’t know.” She jams her hands into her jacket pockets. “I really don’t. I’ve had these feelings for a while.” She fumbles with the silky material of her pockets. And produces a necessary lie. “Maybe a couple months?” _Years._  
  
Ben growls and kicks at a stick, splintering it with the toe of his boot. “A couple months?”

 _You’re right, Ben. I am good at lying._ Mal sighs. “What do you want me to say, Ben?” She splashes through a puddle, coming to a stop before him. Forcing him to look at her through his shiver-inducing shadow-eyes. “You have to know we haven’t been together that long. In fact, we just –”

Ben pushes up his hand, his fingers tensed. “I don’t want to hear any more. Just give me back my ring.”

Mal’s heart dips. _So that’s it. This is how we end it._ “If that’s what you want.” She pulls her hands from her pockets and reaches for his ring.

But all she finds is bare skin, rough beneath her fingertips. Smothered with dried mud, but missing a ring.  
_  
_ She digs her hands into her pockets, scouring the material for the cool metal crest. It is not there. _The tainted._ “Ben, I’m so so sorry. But I think I lost your ring in the forest.” _When that thing broke my hands._ Mal shivers. “The fight was so intense and –”

Ben stops Mal’s words with both his hands, whipped up like shields. “I guess it’s fitting.” He sneers. “You threw my heart into the dirt. Why not my ring?”

And it’s the growl of the beast in his voice and it’s the fisted curve of his fingers and it’s the absence of warmth in his eyes, but every muscle in Mal’s body tenses.

And she snaps, her eyes glowing green.

“Look, I’m sorry I broke your heart. I never meant for that to happen.” She marches forward, crunching the gravel beneath her boots. “But do you realize that I almost died tonight? That I was almost killed by the monster you keep claiming doesn’t exist?” She flings her hands into the air, her fingers curved just like Ben’s: into fists. “He shattered my hands, Ben. And I’m sorry I lost your ring, but –”

Ben catches Mal’s fists, cradling them in his own. The shadows in his eyes soften and glow, deepening his gaze. “If he shattered your hands,” he whispers, rubbing the back of them with his thumbs, “then how are they healed? If you almost died, then how are you yelling at me right now?”

Mal carves her teeth into her lower lip, her breath held captive in her throat. Something creeps across her skin, much like the warnings her body delivered on the Isle just before an ambush.  
__  
But this is Ben. She unleashes a breath, and the warmth fades from her no-longer-glowing eyes. _He isn’t out to hurt me._  
  
For the second time that night, she swallows her lies. “I regenerated. Just before I controlled fire with my hands.”

Ben’s gaze hardens. “And Evie?” He pushes her name through his clenched jaw. “She can control water?”

Mal nods. “We have a connection.”

Ben tenses his fingers around Mal’s fists. “A bond.” 

“Yeah.”

The warmth in his eyes sputters out, a candle without flame. “I trusted you, Mal. With so many things. My heart. My kingdom.” He flings back his head, shaking his hair from his face. “I need you to promise me something.”

Mal yanks her hands from Ben’s tight grip. “What?”

“Promise me that you won’t destroy my kingdom the way you’ve destroyed my heart.”

The shadows reform within Ben’s gaze, penetrating so deep, it’s as if they seek a truth beneath Mal’s skin.

A truth scrawled in riddles and written in code.

A truth Mal does not know how to claim.

So she shakes her head. And she angles her gaze, attempting to see through the darkness within Ben’s eyes. And she fails. “What are you talking about? I would never hurt Auradon.”

Ben closes his eyes, keeping his secrets guarded. “Good.” He nods. “Good.”

And then he turns on his heel and steps away. Away, toward his dorm. Away from Mal.

Mal stumbles forward, splashing through a puddle. “Ben.” _We can’t end it like this._  
  
He freezes. “Yeah?”

“I really am sorry.” Her words are a whispered echo of Evie’s, burning within her throat.

Ben’s shoulders rise and fall in a sputter of breath. “Just be happy, Mal.”

And then he walks away, leaving Mal alone in a world of silence and warm drizzle.

 

Mal hovers at the doorway of her room, her hand curved around the doorknob. A hollow ache carves itself into her chest, made achier and more hollow by memories of Ben. _I hurt him so much._

He was her first.

Her first boyfriend.

Her first point of vulnerability.

The first person in Auradon to ever believe she could be something other than her mother.

 _And now he’s gone._ She clamps a fist over her aching chest, attempting to fill the hollow with something solid. 

She fails.

The hollow is still there, an unbreakable pain.  
__  
And now I’m trying to start something with Evie. Rebellious tears prickle at the corners of Mal’s eyes. _What if I push her away, too?_ She squeezes her eyes between her thumb and forefinger, keeping her tears captive. _What if I break her heart?_  
  
It would destroy her.

The tears sting Mal’s eyes, forcing their way past her fingers. _Maybe I’m just not meant to be in a relationship._  
  
Maybe it would be best to just walk away. 

Maybe it would be best to run. 

Maybe then she wouldn’t be left standing alone in the drizzling darkness, with a gaping hole carved into her chest.

She swipes at her tears. Blinks her eyes. Forces the tears away. _I’m not gonna cry about this._

She drops her hand from the doorknob. _But I’m also not ready to face Evie._ She stumbles backward into the hall.

And the door springs open, crashing against the wall.

Evie glowers from the threshold, flashing-eyes and bare-skin-beneath-a-silken-nightgown.

Breath is a fluttery thing trapped in Mal’s throat. “Hey.”

“Don’t ‘hey,’ me, M.” Evie tugs at the towel wrapped around her hair. “Don’t you dare.”

Mal chews at her lip, tasting droplets of rain and fear. “Wow.” She backs against the opposite wall. _Get it together, Mal. You’re not a coward_. “You’re really angry.”

Evie stalks into the hall after her. “Let’s get one thing straight.” She flicks a finger into the air. “That’s the last time you run from me. The last time you throw yourself into danger – whether it be on the Isle or beneath a tainted’s fangs – because things got a little rough and you decided to run rather than deal.” She punctuates each fire-forged word with a jab of her finger at Mal.

Mal catches Evie’s finger. “I scared you,” she whispers, interlacing their hands.

“Yes, you scared me.” Evie fists her other hand around the muddy hem of Mal’s jacket. “You nearly got yourself killed. And don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing out here right now, M.” She slips her fingers beneath Mal’s jacket, tracing skin.

Mal’s belly shivers beneath Evie’s touch. “Right now?” The words are hoarse.

“Yes, right now.” Her voice grumbles into a growl. A growl contradicted by the touch of their joined fingers, soft beneath Mal’s eyes. As if even now, in her anger, she’s wiping away the ghost of Mal’s tears. “You’re thinking about running again, aren’t you?” Her voice is softer now. “From me. From us.”

 _Yes._ The answer forms upon Mal’s tongue, but crumbles within her desert-dry mouth. _How am I supposed to confirm that? How does she even know?_

 __Then again, this is Evie. And Evie has always found a way to discover each of Mal’s secrets, sometimes even before Mal discovers them herself.

Evie tugs on Mal’s jacket, until the only thing separating them is Evie’s fist. “Not gonna answer?” Evie’s voice has deepened into husk.

Mal trembles at their proximity. “How did you know?”

“I know things.” Evie releases Mal’s jacket. “Prophecies.” She moves her hands to Mal’s hips. “What it feels like to fall in love.” She tugs Mal closer. “When the girl I love is hiding on the other side of our door.”

Mal bites back a moan. Evie’s touch is liquid fire, pulsing beneath her skin. In this moment, there’s only one truth. “I love you, too.”

“Then promise me.” The hallway’s fluorescent lights fall across Evie’s face, sharpening the curves of her cheeks, dipping into the softness of her mouth. “Promise that if we do this – if we finally give into you and me – you won’t run again. Because I know you’re scared. I’m scared, too. But I need you to catch me, just like I’ll always catch you.”

Everything within Mal melts. There are no tears. There’s only the warmth within her chest.

Evie’s asking her to make another promise. The second of the night. First Ben’s promise not to destroy Auradon . . . now Evie’s, not to destroy her heart.

And there’s really only one thing she can say. Because of course she’ll catch Evie, too.

Evie’s lips hover a breath above Mal’s. 

Mal slips closer. “I promise.”

"Good." Evie captures the promise with her lips, sealing it within her kiss.

The kiss is everything it was before, and so much more. Because this kiss tastes like weightless beginnings, like fiery freedoms. 

Evie cradles the curve of Mal’s face, her touch gentle even as she scorches Mal with her kiss.

Mal wraps an arm around Evie’s waist and brushes her fingers across Evie’s cheek, savoring the satin of her skin. Understanding the preciousness of this girl she holds, the one who deepens the kiss with a touch of her tongue, who pushes against Mal until they are not-two-but-one.

It doesn’t matter that Mal is muddy, and Evie is clean. Even as Mal’s mud rubs off onto Evie’s face and nightgown, Evie pulls Mal closer. And kisses her, kisses her, kisses her, suckling Mal’s lips and tracing them with her tongue as if learning their shape.

This kiss is a metamorphosis. It fills the empty spaces of Mal’s soul with something soothing like liquid, as if Evie’s affinity for rain is blessing their bond. 

Mal dusts her fingertips over Evie’s bare shoulders. Memorizes the apple-crisp taste of her mouth. And promises herself she will never break this girl’s heart.

When they part, Mal places her chin onto Evie’s shoulder. “I’m yours, E.” She whispers the words into Evie’s delicate ear. “All yours.”

“And I’m yours, M. Completely.” Evie smooths her kiss across Mal’s hair. “A part of me always has been.”

In the heat of confession, Mal is fascinated by the color of the air. It comes alive, tangled with blue and purple wisps of smoke. _But air is just air. The colors aren’t real._ Mal closes her eyes. _This._ She breathes in Evie. _This is real._

 __Evie is everything.

 

Moments later, Mal lifts her face toward the stream of shower water, washing away the dirt, the mud, the blood. The pain. But even in the deluge, she cannot wash away the night’s memories.

The tainted, with its serrated fangs and its marble strength.

Ben, with his silence and his promises.

Evie, forever immortalized in a flash of silver lightning, her sword cleaved in her fist, waging battle against the monster. A battle she fought after prophesying Mal’s death.

Evie’s prophecies are real. So real, they led her to Mal tonight. So real, they helped her save Mal’s life.

And Evie’s been dreaming about her death.

The shower turns cold, ice against Mal’s skin.

 _A death that isn’t happening._ Mal twists the shower’s knob, shivering as goose bumps bite into her flesh. __  
  
She slides her hand through her drenched hair, tugging it from her face. And steps from the tub, cloaking herself in a violet towel. _We won against Death tonight. We can do it again._  
  
An oval mirror gleams above the sink. Mist coats the glass, but Mal swipes it away with three fingertips, leaving the surface clean and reflective.

A fairy gazes back at her. 

A girl with violent green eyes, gnarled waves of violet, and the hint of fang marks carved into her throat.  
_  
_ Mal fingers the marks. _I should have died._ She presses her fingers into her throat. _But I didn’t. Because Evie saved me._ She slips her fingers to her chest, leaving two white imprints around the crimson of her wounds. _And because I regenerated._ The imprints fade back to the color of her skin. _Somehow, Evie can control water. And I can regenerate._

Evie almost died tonight, too. The tainted had been so close to puncturing its fangs into Evie’s skin. _But I stopped it._ Mal squeezes her fingers in her fist. _With my own flame._

She isn’t quite sure what happened. She’s not positive how she wielded fire. Until tonight, she’d thought that gift was reserved for her dragon.

But Evie’s water was enough to shield her and attack the tainted.

Mal’s regeneration was enough to save her life.

And Mal’s fire magic was enough to save Evie’s life, too.

Cloaked in her towel, Mal steps back to the door leading into her room. She and Evie have a lot to talk about.

Together, they might be able to kill Death.

 

Their room glows blue in a flicker of lightning, which flashes through the midnight sky. The curtains are drawn back, the windows speckled with rain drops. Darkness drifts across the walls, creating swirling shapes of light.

Mal’s footsteps echo through the room, muffled by the carpet.

Evie shifts at the noise. “I controlled the rain tonight, M.” Her voice is a silhouette of sound. “I don’t know how.”

Mal joins her at the window, two silhouettes in the silver flash of storm _._ “I was thinking, E.” She slips her hand into Evie’s. “If we figure out how to control our gifts, we should be able to take on that tainted. Prove your prophecies wrong.”

“I had the same thought.” Evie laces their fingers together. “And I wanted to ask: Did you feel something tonight? Like a warm glow inside your chest?”

Mal watches the rain, beading upon the glass. “I felt you.” It is a whisper more true than anything she’s ever whispered.

“What do you mean?” Evie leans her cheek atop Mal’s head.

Lightning flashes through the window, illuminating the drizzly mist. Illuminating Mal and Evie, Evie and Mal. “I opened my heart to you tonight. And not just to you, but to us. And my magic responded.” Mal nuzzles Evie’s cheek. “I looked inside my heart and I found us there. Our bond. Evie, it gave me so much strength.”

“A bond of purple and blue.” Evie’s voice is a bottomless murmur. “I felt it, too. My heart cracked open when I heard you scream.” She squeezes Mal’s hand. “The rest was simple. Protecting you. Keeping you safe.”

Warmth fills Mal’s chest, much like the glow she felt tonight, but so much more intense. Like here in the silence with Evie, she can forget the darkness of battle and embrace their combined light. “So that’s it, then.” She turns to face her girlfriend. “We stand together.”

“No fear,” Evie whispers, turning to face Mal, too. Her fingers skim the top of Mal’s towel. “Just us.”

“Yeah.” The words escape hoarse from Mal’s thickened throat. She licks her lips, which are suddenly dry.

Evie is a warm-touch-of-breath-upon-Mal’s-lips and bare-shoulders-beneath-the-thin-straps-of-a- clean-satin-nightgown. She is the silk-of-fingertips-dancing-across-Mal’s-towel and the crescent-smile-of-secrets-and-dares. _She is close._ Mal swallows. _And she is mine._

Evie’s fingers drift from the top of Mal’s towel to the faint crimson pinpricks scarred into Mal’s throat. “You have the power to regenerate.”

Mal’s lips part. “I have the power to do a lot, E. All thanks to you.”

“No.” Evie shakes her head. “It’s all you, M. I just give you strength.”

Mal’s gaze flicks to Evie’s lips, curled at the corners and calling for a kiss. “You give me a lot, Evie.” _So much more than you even know_.

Evie presses her fingers into Mal’s throat. “I can feel your heartbeat. It’s really fast.”

“Can’t help it.” Mal’s fingers flutter to Evie’s shoulder, slipping beneath the strap of her gown. “You’re standing right here.”

Evie’s hand skips back to the top of Mal’s towel. She flicks the cotton with her fingernails. “And you’re wearing nothing but a towel.” She claims Mal’s hand, lifting it to her pulse point. “You want to feel how fast my heart is racing?”

Evie’s heart thrums beneath Mal’s fingertips, a thunderbolt of heat. 

“Wow.” Mal’s gaze flicks to Evie’s.

A wild storm flickers through Evie’s eyes. A storm without gravity, its weightless center tugging Mal closer to Evie’s lips.

Mal obeys the summons.

She crashes her lips to Evie’s.

Evie claims the kiss with a touch of her tongue. She pulses her fingers around Mal’s. And glides her other hand down Mal’s side, to the bottom of Mal’s towel. Once there, her hand spasms. Spasms around Mal’s thigh, before Evie clenches her hand around Mal’s skin and claims Mal’s thigh in a gentle fist.

“Evie.” The name is a spasm of breath, breaking from Mal’s lips. 

“Mal.” Evie moans and lifts Mal’s leg to cradle her waist.

 _Oh, fuck._ A burst of sensation rocks through Mal’s core. Evie, pressing closer. Evie, pushing into Mal’s curves. Evie, rocking her hips. _Evie. Evie. Evie_.

Evie tugs at Mal’s towel. It falls open, exposing Mal’s naked skin to Evie’s touch. A touch that trembles as Evie traces Mal’s shoulder, the curve of Mal’s waist. The slope of Mal’s breast, where she stops to squeeze. 

Mal whimpers. Her fingers fall to the curve of Evie’s back; she pushes her closer.

“How’s this for feisty?” Evie whispers against Mal’s mouth, before claiming another kiss with a slip of her tongue.

Fire flickers through Mal’s core, heated waves of pressure crashing in rhythm with the rock of Evie’s hips.

And Mal is caught in a chasm. A chasm of _more_ and _yes_ and _too much_ and _too soon_. A chasm that tears Mal from Evie’s kiss, forcing her to stumble backward, clenching her towel, and smacking into their nightstand. “Sorry.” She pulls her towel back around her body. “I just…”

Evie lifts her hand. “It’s okay.” She bends at her waist, pulling back breaths. “We should really…” Words, splintered between gasps. “…rethink our wearing-towels-in-the-room policy.”

A fiery flush burns Mal’s cheeks. “Guess that’s my fault.”

“Oh, M. No.” Evie’s words tumble together. She stands up straight. Her cheeks are flushed crimson. “I’m the one who tore the thing from your body.”

“You did, didn’t you?” Mal’s lips curve into a cheeky grin. _Did I really just stop that?_ “It’s not that I don’t want to, E.” She traces her toe against the carpet. “It’s just that I’ve never had sex.”

“And we should wait until you’re ready.” Evie crosses to Mal, where she tucks a strand of hair behind Mal’s ear. “Besides, you know that I haven’t, either. We can make it special.”

Mal rolls her face into the palm of Evie’s hand. “Have I mentioned that I have the most understanding girlfriend in the world?’

A grin breaks across Evie’s face. “Girlfriend, huh? Have I mentioned that we haven’t made it official?”

Mal levels her with her gaze. “I’m standing here naked in a towel and completely numb from your kiss. Does it get any more official than that?”

Evie taps Mal’s nose with a kiss. “Couldn’t hurt to ask.”

Mal puffs out an exaggerated sigh. But when she takes Evie’s hand, her touch is nothing if not gentle. “Evie.” She slips their fingers together. “Will you be my girlfriend?”

Evie lifts Mal’s hand to her lips. “Yes, Mal. I’ll be your girlfriend.” She kisses Mal’s knuckles. “So long as you’ll be mine.”

“Definitely,” Mal breathes, leaning her forehead against Evie’s.

“Good.” Evie tweaks the top of Mal’s towel. “Now that that’s settled, you’d better get dressed. Because I’m not sure how much longer I can restrain myself around my wickedly-sexy-and-wildly-naked girlfriend.”

Mal’s fiery flush spreads to the edges of her face. “Deal.”

And so Mal changes into cotton pants and T-shirt, soft against her skin, before curling up into bed with Evie. Her girlfriend. The girl who cradles her heart in the palm of her powerful hand.

Evie curves against Mal’s back, her arm wrapped around Mal’s waist. And nuzzles Mal’s ear. “Happy birthday, M. Was it a good one?”

“Birthday.” Mal snuggles back into Evie’s curves. “Wow. I forgot all about that.”  
_  
_ Seventeen _._

A birthday of bloodshed and broken hearts. 

A birthday of blushes and beginnings and bliss.

A birthday balanced out in pain and ecstasy, which can only write itself in one answer: “It was the best.”

“Yeah.” Evie kisses the shell of Mal’s ear. “For me, too.”

Together, they drift off into dreams.

 

Mal is tugged back to the edge of awareness when her mattress begins to thrash. _What the wicked hell?_ She pops open her eyes. 

And discovers Evie, flailing her fists.

A high-pitched whistle-like-a-scream forces itself from Evie’s lips. “No.” She curls her fingers around their sheets. “Stop.”

Mal’s heart springs into her throat. “Evie.” She clutches Evie’s shoulder and shakes. “Time to wake up.”

Evie convulses. Convulses as if some deathly entity of dreams is tearing her apart. “No. Stop.”

Rain pounds against their windowpane. Evie’s fist pounds against the bed.

Mal’s pulse pounds within her throat. “Evie, come on.” She tightens her grip around Evie’s shoulder, attempting to keep her convulsing girlfriend from falling off the bed. “Come back to me.”  
_  
_ Evie bucks. Her shoulders jolt upward, then crash back onto the bed. Her eyes are sealed, closing in her dreams. “Don’t hurt me.”

“Who’s hurting you?” The words burn Mal’s throat, making her choke. “Damn it. Let me into your dreams so I can hurt them back.” She presses her lips to Evie’s clammy forehead.

Evie’s body stills, as if trapped within glass.

There is no convulsing.

There are no pleas, no prayers.

There is barely enough breath to move her chest.

There is nothing, nothing, nothing.

Until a gasp rattles from Evie’s throat. And her hands crash onto Mal’s shoulders.

And the entire world tilts in a puff of blue-and-purple smoke. 

Mal blinks, attempting to clear the smoke. It clouds her vision.

She reaches back for the mattress, attempting to balance the tilting world. 

Her bed is no longer there.

There is nothing, nothing, nothing.

Until Mal is thrown sideways, onto the gritty ground. A ground packed with dirt. 

The wet tang of Earth punches through Mal’s nose.

The coolness of drizzle prickles against Mal’s skin.

A laugh-more-like-a-cackle pricks Mal’s ears.

A thundering _ta-tump ta-tump_ , a heartbeat of sound, penetrates the laugh, piercing through Mal’s senses.

Mal lurches to her feet. Her eyes ache in a world painted dark. Ache until they adjust to the dim light of stars, the faint wisp of a moon. __  
  
A moon whose broken light cuts across the skeletons of trees, the decay of crumbling tombstones.

She’s standing in a cemetery.

And in the center of the graves is the girl she loves, backed against a marble slab. A tombstone etched with the name EVIE GRIMHILDE. 

Evie whimpers and points her fingers into the sky. “Come on. Rain.”

“Dreams are my domain, your highness.” A cruel voice creeps across the graves. “Your powers don’t work so well here.”

Mal’s chest cracks in two. Because here’s the girl who cradles her heart, backed against her own tombstone. And somewhere around here is the bastard who’s gonna die. Just as soon as Mal pulls Evie back into Auradon, where they can figure out how to kill him.

Without thought, she sprints through the crumbling graves and springs to Evie’s side. “Take my hand, E.” She slips her fingers down to Evie’s. “It’s time to wake up.”

Evie blinks, her face corpse-white. “Mal?”

“I’m here.” Mal takes Evie’s hand. “Now come back with me.”

The thundering _ta-tump ta-tump_ slows into a rhythmic heartbeat, caressing Mal’s ears with sound.

“Okay.” Evie nods and licks at her lips. A faint crimson colors her cheeks, blotting out the paleness of her complexion. “Okay.”

“Just imagine our bed, baby.” Mal traces the color spreading across Evie's face. “Our room. Where we’re safe and warm.”

Evie breathes in deep. And closes her eyes. “I’m there now.”

“Good.” Mal closes her eyes, too. And imagines their room.

She imagines Evie, warm and safe within her arms. 

She imagines their sheets, wrapped snug around them both.

The world tilts.

She opens her eyes to wisps of blue-and-purple smoke.

The cemetery fades. Gone are the skeletal trees. Gone are the crumbling tombstones. Gone is the cruel-and-cold laughter.

And then gone is the smoke, replaced by the silver splash of stars, shining through their bedroom window.

Mal gasps a burning breath. They are safe. They are warm. They are lying together in their bed.

She is hovering over Evie, who stares at Mal as though she is everything.

“You have the power to step into my dreams,” she whispers, dusting her fingers across Mal’s cheek.

“You brought me there, baby.” Mal kisses Evie’s fingertips. “I asked you to let me into your dreams. And you did.”

Evie tangles her fingers through Mal’s hair. “We have the power to dream together.”

“Always together,” Mal echoes, savoring the sounds of this awake world. 

Evie’s breath. 

And Evie’s murmurs. 

And the rhythmic thump she’s quite certain must be Evie’s heart. 

She presses two fingers to Evie’s pulse point. It thumps in rhythm with the sound caressing Mal’s ears. Breath sticks in Mal’s throat. “I think I hear your heartbeat.”

Evie’s eyes widen and she moves two fingers to Mal’s pulse point. “M.” She swallows. “I hear your heart beating, too.”

“Bonded,” Mal whispers.

“Bonded,” Evie whispers back. 

Evie’s gaze slips deep inside. She pulls Mal down for a kiss. A kiss that warms Mal from foot to head, and curls each of Mal’s toes. 

The last thing Mal hears before she slips into the blissful oblivion of Evie’s kiss is, “I love you,” whispered against her lips.

And then there is no more talking.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Chapter Nine**

* * *

****

Dream [drēm, n.]: (1) a series of images experienced during sleep;  
(2) an aspiration; (3) a hope; (4) a middling world where exists  
shadows and beasts locked away from the realms of the living.

* * *

The next several days are scattered in snapshots. Freeze frames of special moments Mal spends with Evie.

They reclaim the forest for themselves. There are no tainted, no threats of death. There is only Evie, skipping through the woods with her nymph-like laughter, playing impromptu games of hide-and-go-seek.

“Come and find me, M,” she calls, her voice weaving through the empty spaces between trees. “I promise to reward you if you do.”

She hides behind the trees, clinging to their trunks.

She hides below the branches, her blue blending with the brown.

She hides beneath the bridge, the creek lapping at her toes.

But Mal knows a secret: Ever since the night she walked into Evie’s dreams, she’s heard her girlfriend’s heartbeat. The closer she steps to the girl she loves, the louder it becomes. _(Evie knows the same secret. Because it happens for her, too.)_

And so she follows the beat of Evie’s life force, winding through wizened trees and stepping across acorns and leaves, coming up behind Evie to tap her on the shoulder.

Each time, she is rewarded with a sun-lit grin and a toe-curling kiss.

 _Snapshot._  
  
They reclaim the safety of Evie’s bed, _their_ bed, tangled together in their sheets.

Sometimes, they dream. When they do, they do it together.

As they drift off to sleep, they lay side-by-side, gazing into each other’s eyes.

“Let’s dream about the ocean,” Evie whispers, her voice touched by sleep. “Bright blue waves and a golden sun.”

Their breaths dip and deepen, and soon, they stride down a foreign shore hand-in-hand, pushing their toes through ivory sand, sapphire waves washing across their feet.

“Let’s dream about the mountains,” Mal suggests, her fingers laced with Evie’s. “A place where I can stretch my wings and take you on a flight.”

Their breaths edge out and even, and soon, dragon-Mal swoops over triangular mountaintops, soaring through the sunburnt sky with Evie’s arms wrapped around her neck.

The bruises beneath Evie’s sleep-starved eyes fade from black to purple to nothing at all, as if the monster never even existed.

 _Snapshot._  
  
Sometimes, they don’t dream. 

Sometimes, they talk.

Woven together in Evie’s sheets, they talk about the Isle.

“Do you think Ben will still let the Isle kids come to Auradon?” A frown creeps upon Evie's lips. “Even after everything?”

Certain words are missing from her question. Certain words which carve themselves into Mal’s mind. _Even after everything that’s happened in Auradon? Even after everything that’s happened between the three of us?_

“Of course, E.” Mal traces her finger over Evie’s frown until it flickers into a smile. “Once things calm down, I’m sure Ben will send for them.” _And if he doesn’t, I’ll just have to persuade him._

“Good.” Evie kisses Mal’s fingertip. “Because I really want them to have their chance.”

Her words are painted in colors of compassion and kindness. Colors which splash across Mal’s heart, tinting it in shades of heat.

When the stars stitch themselves across the sky, spinning light through the darkening fabric of night, talk becomes not about _Isle_ but about _myth_.

“What do you know about your grandmother, E?” Mal asks.

Evie curls herself into Mal’s chest. “I know she was a powerful queen of a distant kingdom. Not much else.”

 _A powerful queen._ Mal chews her cheek. _Is that why that beast bowed to Evie?_ “Where was her kingdom?”

“Don’t know.” Evie taps a rhythm against Mal’s chest, along the space above her heart. “Somewhere far away. Some people say it’s lost to time.”

Mal shivers. _Or maybe it’s resurfacing now._

She slips from their bed to draw their shades.

When the shades are drawn and night has fallen, Mal twines herself around her girlfriend, and talk turns from _myth_ to _Them._

“When did you know?” Evie’s voice is spun from all things soft. “About me? How you felt, I mean.”

“It just sort of happened. Or maybe I’ve always felt this way, and was too scared to admit it. You know.” Mal smooths her finger over Evie’s cheekbone, memorizing the contours of her girlfriend’s face. “Because I was taught that love is weakness. And it was less scary being with someone who was only a friend, and being friends with someone meant to be so much more.”

Evie curls a strand of Mal’s hair around her fingertip. “Are you scared now?”

“Of us?” Mal kisses the curve of Evie’s cheek. “No way.”

“Good.” The syllable is a purr, breathed against Mal’s throat. “You wanna know when I knew?”

Mal dips her kisses from Evie’s cheek to her jaw. “Sure.”

“Mmm.” Evie tilts her head to give Mal access to her throat. “I knew when you ran away to the Isle. And I realized I’d do anything to keep you by my side.”

Mal lifts her gaze to look into Evie’s golden eyes, framed by her wild blue lashes. “How come you never told me?” 

Evie touches her fingers to Mal’s lips. “Just waiting for the right moment, my love.”

_Snapshot._

__Sometimes, they don’t talk.

Sometimes, they just kiss.

Sharing a pillow, they hold hands and kiss like friends, nuzzling noses and offering chaste pecks.

Legs intertwined, they dip hands beneath shirts and kiss like girlfriends, tangling tongues and tasting mouths.

Bodies coiled, they slide their hands higher and kiss like lovers, nibbling lips and tasting skin.

A white-hot flame ignites in Mal’s belly, flaring ever lower.

Her warning bells transform from _too much_ to _more_ , from _too fast_ to _faster_ , from _too soon_ to _soon._

Soon, she knows they will become _now_.

_Snapshot._

When they kiss, the air comes to life with blue and purple wisps of smoke.

They lay side-by-side, fingers twined, watching in wonder.

Mal stops doubting the reality of visible air. And realizes that somehow, the world is responding to the magic of _them._

_Snapshot_

__So entwined are they one with the other, they spend their time in class listening-not-listening, pushing their chairs so close that Evie’s arm brushes Mal’s, and Evie’s foot tangles with Mal’s foot, and Evie’s cheek ends up on Mal’s shoulder.

Mal’s sure the teachers are saying important things. Things about how magic is dead in Auradon _(it isn’t)_ or how the strongest source of kingdom power comes from the top _(it doesn’t)_ or, one day in Fairy Godmother’s classroom, about how, “…in just nine days, the moon will rise to block out…”

Mal blocks out the rest. She’s too busy tracing her toes along Evie’s bare calf, savoring the smoothness of her girlfriend’s skin. Grinning when the rhythm of Evie’s heartbeat spikes within her ears.

_Snapshot._

Sometimes, the circle of Them springs open to Others.

Others like friends.

Breakfasts with Carlos, Jay, Lonnie, and Jane, forks full of strawberries and cream, eyes full of each other.

Walks across emerald grass with Carlos and Dude, laughing as the dog jerks his head, lifts his ears, and darts this way and that, attempting to locate a stick Carlos has hidden behind his back.

Twining pathways through the forest with Jay, who flashes a thief’s grin and confides, “Ben says I can start training as a soldier next year. You know, so I can help Auradon defeat beasts like that bloodsucker.”

Mal’s chest constricts and she pulls Evie tight, but all potential warnings to Jay die before they can form on her tongue. She’s known him for years. _He’s gonna do it because he doesn’t want that so-called bloodsucker to hurt anyone else._

 __Evie leans back in Mal’s arms, her heart beating a frantic rhythm through Mal’s ears. “But what if you get hurt?”

Jay shrugs. “It’s just one beast. I can take him.”

“Be careful, Jay,” Evie says in unison with Mal.

But beneath their words, there is so much more.

Because Jay is much too quick to volunteer for battle.

And because things are starting to knit together in a way that makes an eerie kind of sense. Jay is the son of Jafar. Evie is the granddaughter of the sorceress. Mal is the daughter of the dragon.

Her thoughts echo with her mother’s name – _Maleficent, Maleficent, Maleficent_ – cried out by the creature as he’d stalked her for death.

And come to think of it, Chad was the son of a founding Auradonian family.

 _Somehow, it’s all connected. It’s almost like we’re picking up where they left off._ Her skin prickles and creeps, and not just from the icy wind blowing through the trees.

_Snapshot._

Things become cooler when their circle is shattered open by Ben.

Ben, whose stare follows them through the halls, snapping into something sharper, more menacing when it snaps together with Evie’s narrowed eyes.

The seventh time it happens, Evie clenches her hands into fists around her books. “Think he’ll always look at me like that?”

Mal sighs. “Give him time. I just broke his heart.” She runs her fingers along Evie’s arm.

Evie’s muscles melt beneath Mal’s touch. “Yeah. I guess. It’s just…” She trails off, leaving secrets in the silence.

A silence broken only by the shrilling of the bell.

Mal clasps Evie’s wrist, pulling her away from a surge of students, into a shadowy corner of the hall. “Just?”

“M, you don’t see how he looks at me when you’re not around.” She kicks her booted heel against a locker, creating a metallic clang. “It’s almost like…”

“Like he knows your darkest secrets?” Her stomach bottoms, and memories of the night she broke up with Ben surge to the surface of her mind. “Yeah. He’s looked at me like that, too.”

Evie slumps against the locker. “What secret could he possibly think we know?”

Mal takes Evie’s books and places them on the floor. “Come here.” She tugs on Evie’s wrists, pulling her into her arms. “This isn’t your battle, E. It isn’t even mine.”

“No?” Evie plays with a strand of Mal’s hair.

“Nope.” Mal smooths her fingers along the small of Evie’s back, beneath her leather jacket. Savoring the warmth of her skin. “He thinks you stole me. What he doesn’t realize is I was yours all along.”

“All along?"

“Always, E.” Mal kisses the hollow of Evie’s throat. “Second period has started. You wanna ditch classes and head back to our room?”

Evie shivers at Mal’s touch. “Definitely.”

_Snapshot._

They lay side-by-side in their rumpled sheets, their hair tangled and their breaths tumbling in breathless tandem.

Evie weaves her fingers through Mal’s. “You know, we should really work on our magic. It’s been a few days since –”

Mal silences Evie with a kiss. A kiss that transforms into a crash of lips, a collision of tongues. 

Soon.

She’ll focus on Death soon.

For now, she and Evie exist in a world between. Away from that night. Away from Evie’s nightmares. Just them. Always them.

Evie capsizes back against her pillows and Mal curls atop her girlfriend, pushing her hand beneath Evie’s shirt. Skipping her fingertips along Evie’s satin stomach, up to the curve beneath her breasts.

Evie clutches Mal’s arm, as if it’s the only thing keeping her grounded. “This…” A breath, a gasp. Their gazes melt and mold. “Mmm. This isn’t…” A moan as Mal slides her hand higher, palming the peak of Evie’s bra-clad breast. “Fuck, M. This isn’t what I had in mind.”

“Really?” Mal squeezes the softness beneath her palm. “‘Cause I think we’re doing just fine in the magic department.”

She almost died.

But Evie had saved her.

Evie almost died.

But they’d saved each other.

And Mal wants to savor that. Just for a little longer. Just until time stops blurring into snapshots, and they’re forced to face the reality of death.

Magic soon. For now, _this_.

She slips her fingers beneath Evie’s bra. Skin-to-skin. The first time she’s ever touched her like this. A thrill sparks through her hand.

A second moan sparks from Evie’s lips. “For everything wicked.” She tangles her fingers through Mal’s hair, pushing Mal’s mouth to her kiss-swollen lips. “Fine. But kiss me until we both forget.”

Mal obeys her command, tasting Evie’s tongue. Memorizing the soft warmth of her breasts.

Together, they forget. For a few hours, anyway.

 _Snapshot_.

But a few hours bleed into night. The moon oozes half-light across the starless sky. Trees skeleton their branches against the window panes.

And Mal is left with memories of Evie’s nightmares. And the night they both faced Death.

So they try to reclaim safety by practicing their magic.

Mal places a half-waxed candle onto their nightstand. Hovers her hand over the unlit wick. Imagines her dragon blasting fire from her fingertips.

The dragon is dormant.

Evie runs her nails down Mal’s arm. “Try again, M.”

Mal’s skin prickles from Evie’s touch. And she reaches inside, to the blue-and-purple glow pulsing through her chest. _Ignite the wick, Dragon._ She channels the glow toward the candle’s wick.

The dragon is in slumber.

“Again,” Evie whispers, her breath a warmth against Mal’s ear.

Mal grits her teeth and taps deeper inside, into the beast’s hiding place, the hollow core within her chest. _Come on, damn it. Give me fire._

The dragon wakes and laughs, mocking Mal with an absence of flame.

Mal growls and knocks the candle from the nightstand. It crashes onto the floor and rolls beneath the bed.

“It’s okay.” Evie cuddles Mal to her chest, brushing kisses along Mal’s neck. “You’ll figure it out.”

Mal sighs. _Yeah. But will I figure it out soon enough?_

Suddenly, the days spent ignoring their magic, ignoring the battle looming and fierce, seem so wasted.

“Your heart’s beating too fast.” Evie’s whisper is a soothing hum against Mal’s ear. “Deep breaths, my love.”

Mal forces back breaths. Forces them back even when all she wants is to drag Evie to bed and forget for a few hours more.

Instead, she fills a cup with water. And steps back so Evie can practice her magic, too.

Evie slides her hand over the glass. Narrows her eyes. “Come to me, water.”

The water glistens in the moon’s bleeding light. But stays still and does not surge.

Evie angles her head and snaps her fingers. “Come to me, water.”

The water is nothing but still liquid in the glass.

Evie sighs. “Remember the glow,” she whispers to herself. “Remember Mal.” 

Suddenly, her eyes glow with warmth, as if she’s dipped inside herself for her glowing store of Mal-and-Evie magic. “I said ‘come to me,’” she murmurs, and her voice has softened, too.

The water splashes. Splashes and falls back into the glass, where it remains dormant.

Evie’s shoulders droop. “I can’t figure it out.” She pulls her hand from the glass, sprinkling their nightstand with liquid droplets. 

“Hey, at least you got a splash.” Mal traces Evie’s hand, collecting water onto her skin.

Evie flips her hand to twine their fingers together. “It was so easy that night in the forest.”

“We’ll get it, E. We’ll figure it out soon.”

But they end up tangled within their sheets, tasting each other with kisses and nips.

After that, they forget about their magic for a while.

_Snapshot._

But they can’t forget about it for long.

Because on nights when Mal is slow to pull Evie into her dreams, Evie lingers on the brink of nightmare.

The creature whispers threats through the darkness of her mind.

And Evie jolts upright, her breath nothing more than a rattling gasp.

In the morning, Mal takes Evie to the edge of their forest. Because even though the trees feel so much more alive ever since that night, like something lurks within their depths, she refuses to allow the tainted to chase them from their favorite spot.

 _It’s only memory._ Mal takes Evie’s hand, guiding her to the sunlit lake. _And memory can’t hurt us._

Together, they stand side-by-side at the edge of the golden waters. 

Evie cups her hand over the splash of liquid, calling upon the element of water.

And Mal holds both hands up to the sky, calling upon her dragon to bless her with fire.

But her dragon does not answer. It’s as if the beast does not exist.

And the lake ripples upon the gravel shore, nipping at their booted toes, but does not dance upward into Evie’s outstretched palms.

Mal nudges Evie’s shoulder. “Again.”

Evie splays her fingers, narrowing her eyes. But her gaze softens. Almost glows.

And Mal reaches deep inside for the creature coiled within her soul. _Grant me the gift of your fire, Dragon._

The dragon is silent.

And the water continues to ripple, even splash, but does not rise.

Evie groans and kicks at the gravel.

Mal grits her teeth. _We’re never going to keep each other safe if we can’t figure out how to use our magic._

 __Before, when Death had gazed upon them through eyes crafted from the pits of Lucifer’s hell, it had been simple. They’d each reached inside for their strongest magic, using it to shield the other from harm.

 _Together. We do this together. Always together._ “Okay.” Mal curls her arm around Evie’s waist. “Close your eyes.”

Evie’s eyes slip closed.

“Good girl.” Mal pulses her fingers around Evie’s hip. “Now think of that night. The night we both almost died. When you appeared like an avenging angel and saved my life.” Lifting on tiptoes, she places her mouth to Evie’s ear. “Imagine that I’m on the ground. That the tainted has ripped me open with his fangs. That I’m bleeding –”

“Stop.” The command pushes from Evie’s mouth in a forceful blast of sound. 

A blast which parries into a cacophony, mixed together with the deafening splash of water. The lake twists upward into a liquid hurricane, then crashes down, forming a tidal wave.

Mal and Evie jump backward, but the water gushes over the gravel shore, splashing them from head to foot.

“Well.” Mal shivers and licks the droplets from her lips. “Looks like your magic is tied to your emotions.”

“Yeah.” Evie blinks at the lake. “Yeah.” Her hair is plastered to her cheeks.

After that, Mal imagines Evie falling prey to the tainted’s fangs. Imagines her lover’s neck torn open, the blood draining from her body. Mal’s eyes sting with tears, and she calls upon her dragon to save her girlfriend’s life.

But the creature is silent. And Mal’s fire remains dormant, locked somewhere deep inside, a place without a key.

Mal’s heart crashes to her toes. If she can’t figure out how to use her fire, there’s nothing to stop Evie’s prophecies from coming true.

But maybe you were never able to use fire in the first place. The whisper snakes through her mind, taunting her with truth.

Growling, she closes her fist around a handful of gravel. And tosses the stones into the lake, where they sink below the surface, lost to the waters of time. 

The moments stop blurring together into snapshots and drag out, marching on like weary soldiers stepping from the battlefield.

* * *

Mal is so focused on her lack of fire magic, she cannot sleep. 

And so she sits on the couch, staring at the TV with its confusing array of images and its meaningless drone of sounds, while Evie curls up in their sheets, her shoulders rising and falling in the even breath of dreams.

Mal watches her girlfriend, and splinters of guilt prick her chest. She should be sleeping with Evie, making sure her dreams do not turn from ocean-shores and dragon-flights into tainted-fangs and graveyard-deaths. 

She’s promised to wake Evie should her dreams turn to nightmares.

But Evie is not flailing. Evie is not convulsing.

In fact, Evie is eerily still. Her breaths are so shallow, they are almost nonexistent. And even though she sleeps close by, her heartbeat is a faint hum in Mal’s ears.

Mal shoves off the couch. And crosses to Evie in three strides.

Flopping onto their bed, she smooths Evie’s hair from her forehead. “E?” Mal kisses her girlfriend’s skin, which is clammy and cold. “Baby, let me join you. Bring me into your dream.”

A gasp rattles from Evie’s throat. Her shoulders buck. Buck as if something somewhere is holding her down.

But she remains locked in dreams.

And Mal remains locked on the other side of this eternal nightmare.

She gathers Evie’s trembling hands and bunches them around her shoulders. “Come on, E. Let me in.”

Evie’s hands tense. And a dribble of crimson liquid pools from the corner of her lips. As if somewhere, someone is making her bleed.

But Evie remains trapped in dreams.

And Mal remains trapped on the edge of her own waking nightmare.

Mal pounds her fist into the mattress. “Fuck.” _This is my fault. It’s all my fault._ “I swear to Lucifer, if you hurt her…” She pushes her forehead against Evie’s. Wills the dreams to spill from Evie’s mind into her own. “You want her, you bastard? Then you’ve gotta take me, too.”

Laughter, cold and cruel, splutters from Evie’s lips. Almost as if the creature is using Mal’s lover as a spokes piece.

But Evie’s hands convulse around Mal’s shoulders.

Blue and purple wisps of smoke cloud Mal’s vision.

The world tilts. 

And Mal falls from Auradon into a land of nightmares.

A land where the ground is broken and bursting with bones, which spill from graves cracked open and gaping with shattered tombstones. Unmoving skeletons of the dead stare through sightless eyes into a night devoid of stars.

The ice of wind pricks Mal’s skin.

The stench of rot punches her nose.

And somewhere nearby, a whimpering groan pierces the silence, slicing sharp things through Mal’s heart.

Because she knows that whimper.

She knows that groan.

And the bastard who’s causing Evie to make that sound is going to burn in flames.

Her breath turns to dust clogged within her throat. She sprints toward the sound, splintering bones beneath her feet. And discovers Death, leering at her from behind a crumbling tombstone.

The tainted is a flash of fangs and soulless eyes.

And at its feet is Evie, whose throat is split open, blood spilling against her skin.

A feral scream skitters from Mal’s throat, splintering all thought, fissuring her focus until every breath, every heartbeat, every second is dedicated to Evie. 

Evie, whose heartbeat slows.

Evie, who spasms in a pool of her own blood. 

Evie, who whimpers and breathes out Mal’s name.

Evie, whose love is an eternal glow warm within Mal’s fractured heart.

A glow which flares into an inferno of heat, so blazing hot, it flickers like fire.

The tainted snaps its fangs and lunges at Mal. “You came to join her, Dragon.”

“Dragon this, you evil fuck.” Mal flings out her hand, which blazes with a blast of dragon fire.

A blast that cracks through the air, connecting with the tainted’s flesh. A blast that sizzles against his skin, a fireball devouring him whole while he thrashes, while he screams.

Mal crashes through the broken bones, collapsing to the ground by Evie’s side. “Evie.” She grips her girlfriend’s clammy hand. “Baby, it’s time to wake up now.” Her voice breaks on every word.

Evie cracks open her eyes. “M?”

Mal chokes on wild laughter. “Yes. Yes, it’s me. M. We have to go home now. You have to wake up.”

Evie blinks. “Wake up?” Her throat is smeared with blood, which pools from two pinprick wounds created by the creature who continues to scream.

 _Please let this be only a dream. Please let the blood be only a dream._ Mal presses her fingertips to the wound in Evie’s throat, stifling the blood. It trickles through her fingers. “No more nightmares, E. Wake up now and I’ll take you on a dream to the ocean. Okay?”

Evie licks her lips, cracked and dry. “Okay,” she croaks.

And the world tilts.

Tilts into a landscape of blue and purple mist. Mist which obscures the tombstones, the skeletons, the burning corpse of Death.

Mist which obscures everything else until the world edges and evens, and Mal and Evie wake within their dorm.

Mal is collapsed atop Evie, her lips pressed to Evie’s forehead.

Evie is collapsed against her pillows, her arms trembling around Mal.

The pale light of moon and stars bleeds through the windowpanes.

The television drones on in the background, snatches of sound that make no sense.

The only sound is Evie’s heartbeat, thrumming through Mal’s ears. Solid. Strong. Unbroken.

“You saved me.” Evie clutches Mal against her chest.

“Always.” Mal breathes kisses along Evie’s throat. A throat that is clammy, cold, but whole and without blood. “I’ll always save you, Evie.” Her voice trembles on the cliff’s edge of a sob. “I’m so sorry I left you alone in that nightmare.”

“You didn’t know.” Evie’s fingers form into claws, curled against Mal’s back. “I thought…”

“Shh.” Mal lifts her head to look into Evie's eyes. “No thinking.” _Because if I have to think, I might just break._

Evie’s pupils dilate, the dark brown of her eyes splintering with streaks of tarnished gold. “You thought I was going to leave you.”

 _So much for not thinking._ “You can’t.” Mal tumbles over the cliff, her voice shattering with tears. “Promise me, baby. Promise you’ll –”

“Shh.” Evie lifts her finger to Mal’s lips. “Silly M. I could never leave you.”

The sting of tears splashes into Mal’s eyes. “You’ve gotta promise.”

“I promise.” Evie traces Mal’s lips with her fingertip. “It’s you and me forever. Remember?”

Mal nods and collapses back into Evie’s arms. She blinks back her tears, but they turn traitor and sprinkle Evie’s throat.

“Hey. I’m here, M,” Evie whispers, rubbing palm-circles along Mal’s back. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Mal kisses Evie’s tear-stained throat. And tries not to remember how broken she looked, bleeding out in a graveyard of bones. “Okay.” _Because if you ever do, I’ll follow after. Even if it means plunging feet-first into the darkest pits of Lucifer’s hell._

* * *

Later, when Mal’s tears have run dry, when Evie’s breaths have evened, when the nightmare is a shadowy wisp in a world bright with stars, Evie and Mal lay face-to-face, tangled together within their sheets.

Evie slides a purple curl behind Mal’s ear. “You used your fire.”

“Yeah.” Mal chews her lip, tasting the salt of her tears. “I don’t know how. It was just…”

“I was in danger.” Evie cradles Mal’s cheek. “It works the same for me. With you.”

Evie’s gaze is infinite. So deep with emotion, it slips beneath Mal’s skin, catapulting her into realms unknown.

Mal fingers the silky skin beneath Evie’s eyes, falling into the abyss of everything Evie. It’s the only place she longs to be. _Even if it means committing murder first._ “Think I killed that bastard?”

Evie knocks back a breath. “Probably not.” She thumps her fingertips against Mal’s cheek. “I didn’t die. I don’t think you can in dreams.”

Mal’s stomach twists into a fisted knot. “Then we’re gonna have to, E. Because there’s no way I’m letting him hurt you again.”

Evie’s fingers still. “Soon, my love. We’ll kill him as soon as we both know we can.”

Which means Mal has to work on her fire power.

Which means she has to figure out how to conquer her dragon.

Which means she has to figure out how to slaughter the son of a bitch invading Evie’s dreams.

And she will.

Soon.

Seconds pass. Maybe minutes. Maybe hours. Time edges into a pinpoint of Evie, only Evie. 

Mal kisses the tip of her girlfriend’s nose, and murmurs promises and forevers.

Evie curls her fingers around Mal’s cheek, slides her thumb along Mal’s skin, and meets Mal’s promises with certain whispers about their future.

It is only when the television flicks from the blues, greens and yellows of a sitcom to the somber browns of a newscast that time punches forward. 

Ben’s face fills the screen, his features etched into stern angles and lines. “As you all know,” he says, his voice an echo of sound in his school-based office, “Auradon is experiencing turbulent times. We recently lost the son of a very influential family.”

Mal tenses and reaches up for Evie’s hand. _The son of an influential family and half-a-dozen other people. What new game is this, Ben?_

 __“Just breathe, M.” Evie sweeps kisses along Mal’s knuckles. “Your heart is beating way too fast.”

“But Ben’s still hiding the truth.” Mal clenches her teeth so hard, her jaw screams. “Even after everything he’s seen.”

Ben’s chair rattles as he scoots it closer to his desk. “As of tonight, I’m issuing an official proclamation. Henceforth, no citizen of Auradon is to wander alone outside their place of residence.” He clears his throat. Leans forward on his elbows. Clutches his joined fists beneath his chin. “And if any citizen is caught disobeying this law, they will be arrested and jailed indefinitely. Now, I…”

Ben’s proclamation is scripted and struck through with lies and threats of punishment for a crime the people cannot even begin to understand.

Because no one knows the horrors stalking Auradon.

No one knows how close they are to death, or how many people have already been mutilated.

No one knows, and Ben refuses to tell them.

Mal shoots upright in bed. “He’s still telling them lies, Evie. We have to do something.”

Evie sits up, too, lacing her fingers through Mal’s. “What’re you thinking, M?”

 _What_ am _I thinking?_ Mal bites into her lip.

She’s been searching for the truth for almost two weeks. At her birthday party. In Ben’s office. At the library.

The library, where Ben has the truth imprisoned behind chains.

The library, where the librarian guards Auradon legends with her snapping voice and her snapping stares.

The library…

…where the librarian was deciphering an ancient script. A script that called out to Mal like a jagged corner piece, missing from an almost-finished puzzle.

Mal sucks in a breath like she is sucking in the force of life. “I know I promised you the ocean.” She squeezes Evie’s hand. “But how would you like to break a dozen rules with me first, starting with curfew?”

Evie wrinkles her nose. And laughs. “Is it wrong that it turns me on when you talk wicked?”

Mal lifts a brow. “Oh, really?”

A grin slides across Evie’s face, curled at the corners and glinting with mischief. “Most definitely.”

Hmm. Maybe the library can wait for a few more minutes...

“Duly noted,” Mal purrs, sliding her fingers from Evie’s hand to toy with the hem of Evie’s nightshirt. “And not at all wrong.” She slips her hand beneath Evie’s shirt, pushing her onto her back for a lover’s kiss, all swollen lips and soft moans. 

And since Evie is into all things wicked, Mal decides to give them to her.

She whispers wicked things against Evie’s skin, punctuating her words with kisses. “Poisoned apples.” A kiss to Evie’s jaw. “Skipping class.” And one to the curve beneath. “Spiking punch.” She tastes the hollow of Evie’s throat. “Fighting pirates with swords.” And the delicacy of her collarbone. “Stealing all their rum.” Her kisses dip to Evie’s chest, just above her breasts.

Evie’s moans deepen, and she slides her fingers beneath Mal’s shirt, along the sensitive skin of Mal's belly. And then lower, to the hem of Mal’s pants.

Mal bucks her hips. “Sex,” she whispers, and slips the top of Evie’s shirt down lower, so she can punctuate this wicked thing with a kiss between Evie’s bra-clad breasts.

Evie cradles the back of Mal’s head, offering her loudest moan yet.

Yeah. Wicked is definitely not at all wrong.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: This chapter is just this side of BOILING HOT. Consider applying liberal doses of sunscreen before you engage in this reading experience. (The M rating is about to kick into effect...)

**Chapter Ten**

* * *

****

Of the most dangerous magical creatures is the fae. That rascal will turn itself into a venomous beast without the issue of hint or warning. But the greatest of fae threats lurks within its language.

That trickster possesses a special power over words. The power to imbue life into bold line and mastered angle. Once living, fae words are capable of cloaking themselves, transforming lies into truth. Be wary, fellow mortals. The fae tongue is prickly with fallacies.

_A History of Impish Creatures,_ author deceased

* * *

If Mal has ever excelled at anything, it’s rule breaking – second only to forcing her way into places she doesn’t belong. And magic. She’s gifted there, too.

Her spell book may be locked in a museum. But she still possesses the gifts of the fae.

Which is why, when she stands with Evie outside the library’s locked oak doors, her lips are curled into a smirk. “Wicked ways beneath my skin,” she murmurs, winking at Evie, who winks back.

And then Mal summons the magic thrumming through her veins. 

And it answers back, a flare of heat.

She points her finger at the doorknob. “Make it easy, make it quick, open up without a kick.”

The lock clicks. The doors swing open.

Mal steps with Evie over the threshold and into a room half-lit. A room where moonlight spills through windows, but tangles with the darkness to create shadows which creep over tables and chairs and bookshelves.

Mal’s dragon stirs deep inside, awakening her senses. She sniffs the air. And smells: parchment-musty-with-age, ash-curled-within-the-fireplace, wooden-tables-and-plastic-chairs and, somewhere nearby, the tang-and-juice-of-an-apple.

Evie takes a few steps further into the room, spreading out her arms as though taking possession of their surroundings. When she turns, there’s a glint of excitement in her eyes. “Okay, Miss Mal. We’ve trespassed and broken curfew. What other rules do we get to break?”

Mal curves her hand through Evie’s arm. “How about going through the librarian’s personal possessions?”

Evie flashes her a grin. “Sounds wicked.”

And it’s a sign of how much they’ve both endured these past weeks, that Evie, who has tried so hard to be good and play by the rules of Auradon, is falling back on her wicked ways.

But it’s also a sign of her growing strength. Because being wicked means so much more and so many different things than being bad. It means following your heart. And listening to your instincts. And, in this case at least, rebelling against a system that will not change.

So Mal laughs her wicked-ways laugh. And kisses her girlfriend’s plush lips, murmuring her approval when Evie deepens the kiss with a caress of her tongue. 

And then she takes Evie’s hand. “This way, m’lady,” she says, leading Evie through the labyrinth of tables, and then up to and behind the librarian’s desk.

Evie perches herself onto the librarian’s roll-a-way chair. “What are we looking for?”

“There’s a scroll.” Mal pulls open a drawer and riffles through its contents. Pencils, assorted papers. Nothing scroll-like. “It spoke to me, E. I don’t know why, but…”

“You mean this scroll?” Evie slides a yellowed piece of parchment, jagged at the edges, from beneath the overhang of the librarian’s desk.

A yellowed piece of parchment covered in loops and arches and lines, scrawls that should be foreign to Mal, but that call to something deep inside her soul. Something that pulses much like fairy magic.

“Yes.” Mal pounces on the scroll, sliding it away from Evie. “Exactly this scroll.” She traces her fingers over the symbols, and her soul dances, as if awakening from a deep and lengthy slumber. “It’s crazy. It really is. But I swear I’ve seen this scroll before.”

“Not so crazy.” Evie leans over the desk, peering at the words. “M, this is written in the language of the fae.”

Mal’s heart wings into her throat. “There’s a language of the fae?”

“Mmm.” Evie thumps her fingertips against the parchment. “ _This_ language. But this parchment can’t be more than a few hundred years old, and this language hasn’t been used for centuries longer than that.”

Mal wants to answer back, she does. But images are flickering through her mind, distracting her from speech.

The scroll feels alive beneath her fingers. She swears its heart beats beneath her skin. And the world is suddenly no longer Auradon.

No. Mal is trapped within a display of moving images, which are fuzzy at the edges like old photographs.

There’s a cauldron. Popping with a bubbling emerald potion.

Stirred by a woman. Beautiful, so beautiful. Eyes, brown, cut from amber. The bluest of curls.

Behind her, a gathering of pale-skinned fae. Fae with sharpened teeth. Like dragon fangs. And horns. Sprouting from their heads.

A little fairy. Clinging to the hand of a fairy who – who looks like Maleficent. A little fairy with stubbly horns. Tiny fangs. _Mother?_

And near the fae, near Mother, are chains. People in chains. Wearing sacks. Servants. Slaves? 

They reach out for the little fairy. _Help us! Help us! You are but a child. You are not like them. Help us!_

__The little fairy juts up her chin. Narrows her eyes. Wears a familiar emerald glare.

_No! No! Help us!_ The slaves all cry.

And one slave. Face, chiseled from marble. Eyes black, so black, swallowing his pupils. _Oh, fuck._ It's the tainted. _Maleficent…_ he calls. _Maleficent…Splash the potion here first, Maleficent…_

And the little fairy. Maleficent. _Mother_. Skips to the cauldron. Pushes the blue-haired woman away. _I want their power for myself,_ Mother says. She sticks out her tongue. Lifts the cauldron. Avoids the grabbing hands of the fae. The fae, who hiss and stamp their boots. _(No. It’s for all of us.)_ And tosses the bubbling potion at the slaves.

A splash of green. Drenching the slave with the black eyes. Splashing all the rest. Energy drains from the people in sacks. Black cords like snakes stretching, stretching, stretching to Mother. Mother, whose glare burns greener. Mother, whose body strengthens. Mother, who is no longer a little fairy girl clinging to someone else’s hand, but a fairy girl blazing with power.

Some black-snake-cords coil into the blue-haired sorceress and the other fae.

But Mother gets the most.

And the slaves rage. Claw, claw at the air. Bite, bite into their skin. Drink, drink their own blood. Hiss, hiss at them all. _You will pay. You will paaaayyy!!! Maleficent…Maleficent…_

__And then there is the sorceress. The sorceress with the amber-glass eyes, which are no longer amber, no longer glass, but clouded and white. And staring right at Mal. She speaks, and her voice is a rasp, a death rattle:

__

_And on the fiftieth moon from this day’s night, you will with my kin in love unite._  
_She of sorcery and you of fae, you will extinguish what happened this day._  
_Unless, of course, he kills her first._  
_And then she will seek out in thirst._  
_And after that, only time will tell._  
_With lover’s heart, you may break the spell._  
_But listen closely, listen clear._  
_You must hold your soul bond dear._  
_For of my blood and of your mother’s, there is magic unlike another’s.  
_ _Magic that has been linked this night, and will link you both in your blood’s rite._

__Her words die with a gasp. A gasp and an explosion of flame, which spirals from Mother’s fingertips, igniting the woman’s flowing cobalt dress.

Mother cackles and grins a fanged grin. 

And the blue-haired sorceress screams a soulless cry. She escapes into the blood-moon night, where she douses her flames in a sudden deluge of rain.

The scenes flicker through Mal’s mind, a blur of colors and sounds and fear and pain. And then, like the sorceress, Mal gasps a death rattle and plunges not into a blood-moon night, but back into the present, where she grips the librarian’s desk with two trembling hands.

Mal sucks back a breath that tastes like flame. “Evie, I saw –”

“I know.” Evie’s voice is a breathless gasp. “I’m writing it all down.” Words. Words between breaths, shallow and rattling. Evie clutches a pen, her hand shaking against a rumpled piece of paper. Her fingers scurry across the page, recording the sorceress’s prophecy in quivering script.

She finishes, and the pen drops from her fingers, rolling across the librarian’s desk.

“What does it all mean?” Mal’s chest rises and falls in a broken dance of burning breaths.

“Somehow, we’re soul-bonded. Whatever that means. And…” She flips her finger against a post-it note the librarian has attached to the scroll. “Fiftieth moon. According to this, that’s tomorrow night.”

“I don’t understand.” Mal grips the back of Evie’s chair. “If that’s tomorrow night, then why didn’t she say anything? We’re the curse breakers.”

Evie casts a sharp glance at Mal. “The scroll is written in fae. M, the fae have always been tricksters. Do you think it says something different for –”

Footsteps echo down the hallway, the click-click-clack of heels. Closer and closer, they come.

Closer and closer toward the library doors, which Mal and Evie have somehow left opened.

“Come on.” Mal grips Evie’s arm and sinks with her to the floor. Together, they slide beneath the desk.

But Mal’s breath explodes from her chest, sharper and louder than ever before. _If the scroll says something different for the librarian, then what exactly does it say?_

The click-click-clack of heels comes closer, closer, closer. And stops. “Hello?” Fairy Godmother’s voice bounces through the room. “Is anyone here?”

Evie tosses Mal a wide-eyed glance and places her finger to her lips.

And Mal knows: This is Evie’s sign to quiet her breathing. Evie’s sign that she’s being too loud.

But she can’t help it. 

She’s just traveled backward in time fifty years. 

She’s just watched the moment her mother broke, the moment she became truly evil. The moment she exchanged her little girl’s heart for a heart of violence and cruelty.

And now it seems, Mal has less than twenty-four hours before she’s supposed to break a curse. A curse that threatens to destroy the entire kingdom. A curse no one knows about but her and Evie, the girl with whom she shares a soul-bond – whatever the hell that means.

And so her breath explodes from her lips in gasps. It explodes and it explodes and it explodes as Fairy Godmother’s footsteps come closer to the librarian’s desk, and the scroll flutters above them with its hidden knowledge, and Evie’s eyes widen and darken with panic.

And then Evie grips Mal’s chin. And crushes their lips together in an open-mouthed kiss. A kiss that swallows Mal’s breath in a game of tongue-against-tongue.

_Well, that’s one way to shut me up._ Mal slips her fingers through Evie’s sorceress-blue hair, pulling her closer.

Which is a good thing, because Fairy Godmother’s voice drifts from somewhere just on the other side of the desk. “It’s past curfew,” she calls. But there are questions in her words, as if she isn’t sure she’s talking to anyone but herself. “The library is closed.”

Evie slips her fingers through Mal’s hair, too, keeping her close. Their tongues slide together in silence, speeding up both their heartbeats, Evie’s echoing in Mal’s ears, but stifling the breath burning in Mal’s lungs.

Fairy Godmother raps the desk, her knuckles colliding with the wood directly above their heads. “Answer me at once.”

Mal tenses, but Evie keeps her close. Sliding her tongue further into Mal’s mouth.

Because there’s an edge of doubt in Fairy Godmother’s voice.

Which means she does not know they are directly below, making out in the shadows of the library. The library where they’ve trespassed and are breaking curfew, which could mean, added together with Mal’s outburst after class, suspension or even expulsion.

Fairy Godmother’s feelings explode in a burst of breath. And her footsteps start again.

But they do not click-click-clack closer. No, they move against the carpet, a muffled beat that sounds farther and farther away.

The door closes with a click. The lock clacks into place. And Mal and Evie are alone.

They break their kiss. And Mal, through tingling lips, which are nearly numb from Evie’s scorching kiss, gulps back precious lungfuls of air. 

Air that is wonderful and cool. 

Air that calms the burning in her lungs.

Evie tips her forehead against Mal’s. “That was so close.”

“Too close.” Mal rolls her forehead against Evie’s. “Thanks for the kiss, fire tongue.”

“Any time.” There’s laughter in Evie’s voice. 

Laughter that almost soothes Mal’s muscles.

But not quite. 

Because with her lungs no longer burning, with her future at Auradon Prep no longer at stake, she surrenders again to the deluge of memories flickering through her mind.

A curse. Meant to be broken.

A kingdom. Meant to be saved.

Mal and Evie. Meant to be soul-bonded saviors. 

And her mother. Her mother, the demon. Her mother, who created the tainteds with her cruelty. Her mother, who flung spirals of fire from her fingertips. When she was just a girl. Years before she could ever turn into a dragon.

All this time, Mal has been attempting to claim her magic by tapping into the creature breathing fire through her soul.

She’s forgotten: The magic isn’t linked to the dragon. The dragon is linked to _her_. There is no separation. She and the dragon are one and the same.

So when she breathes through her heightened senses, breathes in the must of books and the sweetness of Evie and the ash of the fireplace, she isn’t using the dragon’s senses; she’s using her own.

And when she, in dragon form, funnels flame across the skies, she’s the one breathing fire; fire she must possess in either form, dragon or fae, because it is a part of who she is.

And if she and Evie are going to break the curse tomorrow night, then she needs her flame. Because it’s the only thing other than Evie’s water power that’s been able to stop the tainted.

Evie tweaks a strand of Mal’s hair. “What’re you thinking about, M?”

Mal kisses the tip of Evie’s nose. And rises to her feet. “I’m thinking about summoning a dragon, E.” She holds out her hand. “You wanna come along?”

Evie grins. “How much mischief are you going to commit tonight?”

Mal winks. “Just one more bout of rule breaking.”

“Then count me in.” She grabs Mal’s hand.

Mal tugs her girlfriend to her feet and steps with her from behind the librarian’s desk, past the staggered rows of bookshelves heaving with old books, and to the fireplace filled with charred wood and flakes of ash.

Fire fascinates her. Has fascinated her since the night she first puffed into a dragon, a belly of fire blazing hot within her throat. 

And the fire hadn’t formed through spell work or thought.

No. It had formed on instinct. The instinct born within Mal’s dragon blood. The same blood that flows through her veins now, in fairy form.

“I’ve been going about this wrong, Evie.” She releases Evie’s hand. And takes a step closer to the fireplace. “When I’m a dragon, I don’t force the flame. I just let it happen. Almost like I’m moving a finger or blinking my eyes. And the flame appears.”

“So what are you thinking?” Evie curls her hand around Mal’s shoulder.

“I want flame.” Mal points her finger into the fireplace. “So there’s no reason it shouldn’t happen.”

It doesn’t happen at first.

There are no sparks, no bursts of flame.

So Mal imagines herself in dragon form. She imagines the flame burning hot within her belly, beneath her skin, through her arms and into her hands. She imagines it flickering from her fingertip, streaking into the fireplace.

In seconds, there are signs: Her skin beads with sweat; her breath heats and splutters into gasps; her finger twitches. Twitches and then sparks with embers of fire.

Evie pulls back a breath. “You’re doing it, M.”

An explosion of heat builds within Mal’s gut, setting her skin ablaze. Her hair whooshes back, up, around her face. And a blast of flame bursts from her fingertip, bolting into the fireplace, where it transforms into a crackling fire, casting red and orange glimmers of light throughout the room.

Evie whoops and jumps up into the air. “You did it! You really did it.”

Mal’s heart lightens for the first time all night. For a moment, she feels as if she will fly. “I mastered my flame,” she whispers. “I did it, E.” And then, her heart fluttering like fairy wings, she realizes: “We’ve got this.” She whirls to face her girlfriend. “Evie, we can do this. We can break the curse. We can defeat the monsters.”

Monsters plural now. Because after that vision, Mal’s certain the tainted isn’t acting alone.

It doesn’t matter. Now that she and Evie have their magic – now that they have each other –- they’re unstoppable.

“Yeah, we can.” Evie gazes at Mal as though she is a goddess of all things fire. “So tomorrow night? On the fiftieth moon?”

Mal shrugs. “We do what we’ve always done. We stand together against whatever’s going to happen. And -”

“And we kick some ass.” Evie grins and knocks Mal's knuckles. But then she folds her grin between her lips. And stares at Mal’s fire, a wrinkle forming between her brows. “There’s something else, M.” 

“What?”

“You called fire without a candle wick or sunlight. It exists within you.” She flutters her fingers, staring at their tips. “Which means water must exist inside me, too.”

Mal’s stomach somersaults. “What are you thinking?” 

“I’m thinking that there’s no reason I shouldn’t be able to make it rain.” She frowns at her fingertips, even as her eyes spark with her witch’s fire. 

“Wait.” Mal touches Evie’s elbow. “You realize we’re in the middle of the library?” 

Evie shrugs. “I’m not gonna make it rain on the floor.” Her voice is distant, an echo of thought, a murmur of sound. She pushes her fingers into the air. “Mal,” she whispers, closing her eyes. Speaking not to Mal, but to something inside herself. “With all things Mal – our love, our proximity, our bond – make it rain.” 

Evie opens her eyes, and the spark within them flashes silver, turning them molten.

There’s a dazzle of silver static, lightning come to life within the center of the room. And a resounding crash of thunder.

Sprinkles of moisture dance across Mal’s skin, cleaning away her dragon-fire sweat. And suddenly, they aren’t just dancing across Mal’s skin; they’re everywhere. 

Water molecules waltz through the air, forming a liquid sphere above Evie’s outstretched hands. The sphere shimmers with the light of Mal’s fire, reflecting not just her flame, but everything throughout the room. The tables and the chairs. The shelves and their books. The librarian’s desk. The yellowed scroll. Mal’s wide-eyed face. 

It’s like a fortune teller’s crystal ball, reflecting not what might become, but everything which is present. 

“Holy hell, E.” Mal’s voice skitters outward in a whisper. “You’re a fucking goddess.” 

Evie’s lips curve into a grin, glinting in the darkness. “I – I think I can shape it. Like I did that night, with the shield.” She takes a deep breath. “Watch.” The wrinkle between her brows deepens, and the sphere transforms, lengthening and turning pointy, taking the shape of a sword. Evie clasps her hand around the sword’s hilt. And slashes the weapon through the air, cleaving it into the spine of a book. 

The book splinters in two.

Mal gasps and stumbles backward. Her legs collide with the edge of the sofa, so she plops into the chair, her ever-widening eyes still reflected within Evie’s water. “The monsters don’t have a chance.” 

“Curse?” Evie snaps her fingers, and her sword dissolves, the water molecules fading back into the atmosphere. “What curse?” 

Mal shakes her head. “Come here,” she says, quirking her fingers at Evie. 

The fire in Evie’s eyes sparks again, igniting her golden gaze into the stare of a dark goddess. She skips to Mal’s seat and straddles Mal’s lap. “I’m here.” She nips at Mal’s nose. “Whatchya gonna do with me?” 

“Oh,” Mal says, gripping Evie’s hips to pull her closer, “I have a few ideas.” 

She claims Evie’s warm lips in a fiery-fairy kiss.

And with Mal’s flames casting their warmth across their skin, they make out in the library for the second time that night. 

* * *

When the stars dust the sky with silver and the moon is a shadow hidden behind a fat grey cloud, Mal and Evie slosh through leftover puddles, moving from the forbidden library and back into their dorm. They hold hands, tensing any time the night makes a noise.

But none of those noises have fangs.

And none of the shadows transform into monsters.

They are safe. For now. And masters of their own magic, eager for a good night's sleep.

So once they've reached the safety of their room, they change into nightshirts and lay atop Evie’s pillows, legs entwined, gazes locked.

“Let’s dream of the beach.” Mal feathers her fingers through Evie’s hair. “A turquoise ocean washing against sandy white shores. And,” she says, a smile spiking up the corners of her lips, “you in a bikini.”

Evie’s laughter is throaty and deep. “Any chance to get me into a bikini, huh, M?”

Mal’s smile horns into a smirk. “I could always ask you to go nak—”

Evie touches her fingertip to Mal’s lips. “Tell you what, Miss Mal. You slip into a bikini, too, and I’ll join you.”

“Deal.” Mal kisses the tip of Evie’s finger, savoring the pink tinting her girlfriend’s cheeks.

And then she lets her eyes slip closed. Her breaths dip and deepen. Her chest rise and fall. 

Soon, she glimpses blue-and-purple smoke on the cliff’s edge of her dreams. It curls in wisps, clouding her vision. The world tilts and evens, then fills with the scent of salt, the splash of ocean surf.

Mal opens her eyes to find Evie standing ankle-deep in turquoise waters, her features glowing against a backdrop of golden sun and deep blue sky. A sapphire bikini accentuates each of her copper-toned curves.

Evie catches Mal staring and giggles. “You like?” She twirls, splashing up surf.

The surf crests around Evie’s ankles, splashing onto her bare legs, which are naked beneath the bikini bottoms tied at either side of Evie’s cream-and-curve waist; a waist that tapers up to a smooth-and-sexy stomach; a stomach muscular and toned and highlighted by a bikini top which cradles Evie’s perfect breasts, peeking at Mal over the top of the sapphire fabric. 

A rumble sounds from deep within Mal’s throat, wild animal mixed with a dragon’s desire. Fire flares below the hem of her violet bikini bottoms. Flares so hot, she can’t stop herself from dashing for her girlfriend. 

Evie shrieks and throws up her hands, skipping backward into the surf.

But Mal, her breasts bouncing in her violet halter top, rushes faster and tackles Evie into the tide. “Told you this would be fun,” she says, gathering her girlfriend’s hands in her own. Pinning them above her head.

The surf splashes into Evie’s hair, sprinkling her cheeks. 

Evie licks her lips, her eyes smoldering. “How much fun are we talking about, M?”

Mal answers her question by nipping at her mouth. And then, when Evie’s throat rumbles, too, she claims her lips in a lover’s kiss that tastes of salt and surf and tongues.

The ocean drenches their bikinis, sticking them to their skin, leaving each of Evie’s curves slippery and slick and molded to each of Mal’s.

Evie growls a very un-Evie-like growl and rolls Mal onto her back, tangling their legs. She dips her kisses to Mal’s throat, warming Mal’s skin with her tongue.

Mal moans and slides back her head, moving her legs to capture Evie’s hip between her thighs. This, then, causes new curves to mold and slip and slide, and the fire in Mal’s wet bikini bottoms flares into an inferno.

Evie growls and rips her mouth from Mal’s throat. “We need to stop.” Her chest rises and crashes, and she captures Mal’s half-lidded gaze in her feral brown-eyed stare. “Unless we want to lose our virginity in a dream.”

She doesn’t speak the words that Mal knows are there: Two more heartbeats, and they’ll be ripping off clothes.

But Mal doesn’t care.

She wants this.

Oh, she wants this.

So she slides her fingers to the back of Evie’s neck, lowering her girlfriend’s face until their mouths are a breath apart. “I’m ready,” she whispers.

Evie’s wild eyes widen. She sucks back a breath. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Another whisper, this one smoky.

“Okay.” Evie blinks. “Okay.”

And then she pops out in a puff of blue-and-purple smoke, vanishing from the dream.

Startled, Mal pops out, too, reappearing in their dorm room, in their bed, where Evie is jumping from their sheets. “I’ll be right back,” she says, and, clad in only a nightshirt, rushes to the door.

“Evie?” Mal springs into a sitting position. “Where are you going?”

“I’ll be right back,” she repeats, and, legs and feet bare beneath her shirt, she rushes from the room.

Mal’s stomach sinks to her toes. _Okay._ She falls back against her pillow, trembling from memories of the beach. _So it’s probably not a good thing when your girlfriend runs away from you – not once, but twice – after you’ve told her you’re ready to have sex._ She frowns up at the sunrise shadows flitting across the ceiling. _And it’s probably even worse when she runs away half-naked._

But maybe Evie had to use the bathroom. The one outside their room. Two floors down. Always dark and smelling of pee. Or maybe she – what, Mal doesn’t know. _But she’ll be back._ She watches the clock on her nightstand tick its blue numbers from 5:28 to 5:34 to 5:41. _She’s coming back. Right?_

Mal stills her breathing and listens for Evie’s heart, but its racing beat is a distant murmur.

_She really ran far. That can’t be a good sign._

And then she sighs. And thumps her head against her pillow, pushing away thoughts of abandonment. _Okay, come on. Now isn't the time to start doubting Evie. Evie loves me._

Besides, they have a world to save.

_So instead of doubting her, I'll practice. Prepare for tomorrow night. Pass the time until Evie comes back and we…continue what we started_. Her belly aches. Sensitive places flare with heat. But she ignores them, choosing instead to focus on the tips of her fingers. _Who knew I had such a lethal weapon at my fingertips?_

She imagines her flame erupting beneath her skin, dancing through her arms, sliding into her fingers and their tips.

But her magic snaps back like an electric whip, lashing at her from beneath her skin. Without Evie's cool calm nearby, it's almost feral.

It seizes her breath, turning it into painful gasps. _Fuck. Fuck, think of Evie. Just think of Evie and be in charge._

In charge, she imagines her magic under her control, imagines it soothed by thoughts of the blue-haired sorceress who _will_ be back soon. Her breathing turns deeper. One breath. And two. The gasps become puffs become breaths. The pain fades.

_Me, one. Magic, zero._

But her magic is not done. It’s so hot beneath her skin, it burns. It flicks its fire beneath her flesh, dousing her in sweat.

_Hot. Too hot._ Breathing deep, Mal envisions Evie's golden eyes. And puts herself back in control with a thought: _Into my fingers. Out from beneath my skin._ She channels her magic, redirecting the heat to her fingertips.

Her skin cools. Her fingers heat.

A spark pops out onto one finger. Then two. Then three. Then each finger is alight with red-orange flame, ten would-be candles flickering with fire. 

Mal cries out her delight. 

The flames flicker higher, so she imagines them fading back into her fingers. 

Her magic is relentless. Her skin smolders again. Smolders so hot, it threatens to burn her from the inside out. 

But Mal breathes in her fire. Breathes it in deep, reigning in her magic. Forcing it back into her control.

The fire fades. And so does the electricity of her magic. _I did it._

Early morning sunlight dances across her hands. Her fingers are warm, but not fire-hot.

Unfortunately, she can’t say the same about the rest of her. She’s still smoldering in places sensitive, places that almost make her moan. 

She flips onto her side and glances at her clock. It’s 5:52. And there’s still no sign of Evie. 

Mal crosses her legs beneath the sheets. _I really_ was _ready._ So ready, the fire is still red-hot within her belly, if not her fingertips. Aching to put out the flames, she slips her fingers inside the waistband of her silk panties. And starts slipping them lower still.

When the door flies open and Evie scurries in, her arms full of plastic bags containing strawberries, purple roses, and blue and purple candles. “It’s still really early in the morning,” she says, holding up her prizes, “so I was able to sneak into the school store and get these.”

_Oh._ Mal tugs her hand from her panties, ruffling the covers. _So that’s where she went._

__Evie tilts her head, staring at the rumpled comforter. “What exactly were you doing while I was gone, M?”

“Um.” Mal’s cheeks flush with heat. “Just putting out some fires.”

Evie touches her tongue to the corner of her mouth in that way she does when she knows Mal’s hiding something, and it’s something that Evie finds wicked. So wicked, she hovers on the edge of laughter.

But Mal doesn’t feel like being laughed at, not with the fire in her belly. And not with the way she’s feeling toward Evie.

Evie, who just broke half a dozen school rules. To romance Mal. 

Evie, who just committed burglary. To make Mal happy.

No one’s ever committed a felony to make Mal happy before.

“Evie.” She nibbles at her lower lip. “You broke into school property to bring me back aphrodisiacs?” Her voice wobbles with a touch of laughter. And so much emotion. 

Because Evie may be wicked, but she’s also tried so hard to be good. 

And because no one’s ever looked at Mal the way Evie’s looking at her now.

Evie dips her gaze beneath her lashes. “I want it to be special.” She traces her toe across the carpet. “You deserve it to be special.”

Mal can no longer keep herself contained beneath the covers.

She slips from the sheets and pads to the place where her girlfriend is gazing at her through moonlight-eyes, a faint blush star-dusted across her cheeks.

She takes the bags from Evie. And places them on their nightstand, where the candles scatter across the surface and the roses smell rich, the strawberries of sweet tang.

And then she curls her arms around Evie’s waist, pulling her close. “I’m not the only one who deserves this to be special.” She kisses the tip of Evie’s nose.

Evie releases a sigh that causes her to deflate. Almost as if she’s been holding onto a breath of tension ever since she left the room. “So you’re really ready? You’re really sure?”

“I’m so ready.” Mal tilts her forehead against Evie’s. “I want this, E. I want you.” 

With a throaty hum, Evie curls into Mal, into her crevices and curves.

The fire in Mal’s belly flares again, dipping back into lower places. She stifles a growl. “You have no idea how badly I want you.”

Evie slides a kiss onto Mal’s lips. “Then wait for me in the bathroom. Okay? Because I want to get the room ready before…”

The word _before_ hangs in the space between them, wrapped in blue-and-purple silk and scented with the richness of promise: _Before_ their first time. _Before_ they make love. _Before_ they make each other shiver and moan.

Mal slides her hands beneath Evie’s nightshirt, where she clutches Evie’s hips, naked beneath her palms. “How long?”

Trembling on a breath, Evie pushes her hips against Mal’s. “I can get it done in fifteen minutes. No. Ten. Maybe eight if I –”

Mal frees a hand to place a finger against Evie’s lips. “I can wait fifteen.” She nips at Evie’s nose. “But at sixteen, I’m coming out.”

Evie arches an eyebrow. “And if you’re not out at seventeen, I’m coming in to get you.” Her voice dips to a tone of silk-and-smoke. “So I can drag you to our bed, where I’ll proceed to have my wicked way with you.”

The fire in Mal’s belly sparks. “Don’t make me wait ‘til eighteen.”

“At eighteen,” Evie says, pushing her hand beneath Mal’s nightshirt, “I’ll already have you naked.” She brushes her fingertips across the crotch of Mal’s panties. “Hmm. Wet.”

Mal groans. “Fuck, Evie.” She rocks into Evie’s fingertips. “Keep touching me like this,” she growls, moving her hand to cup Evie’s ass, “and I’ll take you to bed right now.”

A moan rumbles in Evie’s throat. Her eyes blaze with _I-need-yous_ and _right-nows_ and _I-wanna-touch-you-all-overs_.

But she grits her teeth.

And she smirks. 

And she withdraws her hand from beneath Mal’s shirt. 

“Bathroom for you, Miss Mal.” She nips at Mal’s jaw. “The sooner you go, the sooner the clock starts.”

Mal’s skin tingles from Evie’s bite. Her more personal spaces tremble from Evie’s touch. Her arms twitch with the sudden need to throw Evie over her shoulder and carry her to bed, aphrodisiacs be Lucifer-damned.

But Evie wants this to be special.

Evie _deserves_ this to be special.

So Mal reigns in her twitching arms, pulls them away from Evie. And uses her hands for a different purpose: she launches herself at Evie’s desk and snatches up Evie’s apple-red watch. “I’ll just take this with me.”

Evie springs into throaty laughter. “See you soon, M.”

“You know it, E.” Mal clenches her trembling fingers around the timepiece. And stumbles into the bathroom, almost knocking into the doorframe, blinded by memories of Evie’s touch-slipped-beneath-her-shirt.

She shuts the door, leaving Evie giggling in the sunrise shadows of their bedroom. Sitting atop the toilet, she crosses her legs tight to keep the fire in her panties from scorching.

Outside the door, assorted noises sound within their room. Whooshes of fabric. The clatter of candles. The spark of a match.

Inside the bathroom, the world is dark. The only light filters in through a tiny window cut high within the wall. Evie’s watch tick-tick-ticks within Mal’s hand, counting down time.

Not fast enough.

One minute stretches out like thirty.

Three stretch out like hours.

By five, Mal can no longer keep still. There’s no way she’s going to survive. Not with the banging of drawers and the whispers of fabric and the sounds of Evie’s humming coming from the other room. 

Not with the way the fire is scorching every inch of Mal’s tingling skin, trapped within her clothes.

So Mal does the only thing she can.

She strips naked, scattering her clothes onto the floor.

And she turns on the shower. Warm enough not to douse the fire, but cold enough not to fuel it into an uncontrollable inferno.

She slips her hair beneath a purple shower cap – she doesn’t want it to be drenched and uncomfortable for Evie – and she steps beneath the deluge of shower water.

The stream melts into her skin, into her muscles, and thoughts of Evie, of Evie-and-Mal, melt through her mind.

Their fights on the Isle, before they became friends. When Mal set out to torture Evie, until Evie, with her kindness and her grace and her unfailing strength, slipped into Mal’s heart and began to transform its cruel, cold beat into something wonderful and warm.

Coming to Auradon. Opening her transforming heart to the girl with the blue hair, who she thought of first as a wand-stealing-ally and then as a secret-sharing-best-friend and then as something more, so much more: someone capable of opening Mal’s heart completely, guiding her to unleash a shared strength capable of saving both them and their world.

The water pours over Mal’s back, and the memories pour through her mind. She grabs a razor from the shower overhang, using it to smooth her legs – anything to make herself more beautiful for the girl she loves – and remembers: strokes-of-blush-across-her-cheeks and touches-of-lipstick-upon-her-lips and standing-before-a-mirror-with-Evie, standing-before-a-mirror-feeling-beautiful.

Evie has always made Mal feel beautiful.

Evie has always made Mal feel special. From snuggles-in-bed to lightning-laced-glances to touches-that-seep-beneath-the-skin to whispers-of-forever-and-a-sorceress-blessed-day.

And now, it’s Mal’s turn to make Evie feel beautiful and special.

So she spreads some strawberry-scented body wash on a purple loofah. And she soaps down her skin, being extra careful to spread the soap onto her palms and get the more personal spaces twice. And then, when she is rinsed and her legs are smooth, she turns off the shower.

She steps out of the tub, vowing that in the next moments, she will do everything she can to make Evie feel just as wonderful, just as special, just as beautiful, as Evie has always made her feel.

“E-em!” Evie singsongs Mal’s nickname from the other room. “It’s fifteen minutes and thirty-eight seconds. Don’t make me come in there and get you.”

Mal’s stomach flutters, like a dragon taking flight. _Maybe I should wait…_ Evie did promise wicked retribution should Mal stay in the bathroom too long. _And I really can’t wait to experience every wicked thing she has planned._

But more than that, Mal can’t wait to kiss Evie. She can’t wait to touch her. She can’t wait to taste her. Her mouth waters with an explosion of desire.

She bends to collect her clothes. And stops. She’s not going to need them for very much longer.

Instead, she grabs a purple towel from the towel rack. _Towels worked so well the first time we made out._ She wraps herself in its plush cotton. _Wonder what Evie will do with this one?_

__The dragon wings flutter into her throat, but she swallows them down. _I’ve got this._ And opens the door to find their room transformed.

Purple and blue candles inside glass cups flash and flicker with the orange glow of candlelight. Spread throughout the room – on the dressers, on the desks, on the nightstands – they spell the space with shadows of warmth.

The bedposts are twined with purple and blue silk. And atop their bed is a blue silk comforter, perhaps material from one of Evie’s sewing projects, scattered with rich purple rose petals.

And atop that comforter, gowned in a thigh-high, V-neck blue satin nightdress, is the love of Mal’s life. Evie sits with her smooth legs curled before her, holding out a plump pink strawberry. “Strawberry, my love?” Her voice is sewn from all things whispery and wicked.

Mal forgets to hold onto her towel. And lets it drop. 

She gasps and flutters her fingers to catch the cottony material.

But stops when she glimpses the flare of Evie’s nostrils and the fire flashing in Evie’s eyes.

Evie licks her lips. And flicks her fiery gaze from Mal’s shoulders to her breasts, where she lets it linger, half-lidded, before flicking it lower to Mal’s belly and settling it on places further down. “Or maybe I’ll be the one doing the tasting,” she whispers, a tremor in her voice. Her fingers tremble as she sets the strawberry on their candlelit nightstand. “Come here.”

Every surface of Mal’s skin flushes with heat, but she stumbles across the path of purple rose petals Evie has strewn from the bathroom door to their bed. 

The petals are silken beneath Mal’s feet. 

And Evie’s arms are satin around Mal’s waist, where she wraps them before lowering Mal onto the rose-petal-decorated silk comforter.

Evie hovers above Mal, with one arm looped over Mal’s waist, supported by her hand, pressed into the mattress; the other arm settled by Mal’s face, which she cups with a gentle hand and warm fingers. She strokes her fingertips along Mal’s cheek, gazing into Mal’s eyes with a smoldering brown stare which offers glimpses of her soul. “Hi,” she whispers.

“Hi.” A whisper, a wisp made wispier with touches of emotion. Mal brushes a wave of hair from Evie’s face, which glows as if moon-kissed. “You’re so gorgeous, E.”

Evie nuzzles Mal’s nose. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, M.” She dips her mouth to Mal’s lips. “So beautiful.” She brushes Mal’s lips with kisses, while exploring the skin of Mal’s waist with her fingertips.

Mal shivers.

She’s laying naked beneath Evie.

Evie’s touching her naked skin.

Evie’s parting her lips with the tip of her tongue, and tasting her mouth like it is strawberries and cream. And while Evie’s tasting her, Evie _tastes_ like tart strawberries. 

The taste explodes in Mal’s mouth, making Mal whimper.

And when Evie traces her touch to Mal’s breast, squeezing it in her hand, flicking the nipple with her thumb, the fire in Mal’s belly explodes into sparks, and the whimpers in Mal’s throat explode into moans. Moans which only deepen as Evie continues to explore.

She kisses her way from Mal's lips to Mal's throat, tracing Mal's skin with the tip of her warm, wet tongue.

Mal tangles her fingers in Evie's hair. “Evie,” she whispers, her soulmate's name dancing from her lips.

“Mal,” Evie breathes. She whispers her kisses down Mal’s body, to the curve between Mal's breasts. She tastes the curve and then she tastes around the nipples and then she tastes the nipples, too, warming them between her lips.

Evie's name is no longer a whisper, falling from Mal's mouth. It turns into a moan. Their gazes connect.

Evie's gaze is full of sparks and Lucifer-promises. Promises she kisses onto Mal's belly and onto Mal's thighs, tasting them as Mal's body bucks.

Mal does not know the sounds she is making. They are senseless syllables breaking from her burning throat. “Please,” is the only word that makes any sense. _Please stop teasing me,_ as Evie devours the flesh of her thighs. _Please taste me deeper,_ as Evie smooths her kiss along Mal's never-been-kissed lips. “Fuck, Evie. Please.” Mal lifts her hips, sending her message.

Evie moistens her mouth with the tip of her devil's tongue. “Please what, M?” Her voice is light and lilting and will-get-her-in-trouble-later. When Mal remembers how to move.

“Deeper,” Mal moans, tilting her hips higher. “I need you inside.”

Evie's eyes flash with silver lightning. “Good girl,” she husks.

Mal's growl, angry at _good girl_ , turns into something else entirely when Evie cools Mal’s fiery heat with her tongue. It is a growl of pleasure, rough against her throat as Evie's kiss is soft against her curves. It is a growl of oblivion and _there, right there_ and _more, more, more_.

“You taste so good,” Evie whispers against Mal's flesh, stopping her kiss. “I knew you would.” She hoists herself up on her elbows, grinning with a devil's dare reflected within her gaze.

A gaze that dares Mal to ask for more kissing. 

A gaze that dares her to demand Evie make her moan. 

A gaze that dares her to beg Evie to use her tongue until she breaks. 

But that isn't what tonight is about. It isn't about lust. And it isn't just about Mal. It's about _them_ , and everything they can make each other feel. And it’s about need. Mal needs Evie trembling, too. She needs her moaning. She needs her naked and vulnerable and _hers_. 

So Mal beckons to Evie with a trembling finger. “Get up here, E.”

Evie raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

“Mhmm.” Mal summons a spark into her eyes, turning them – for three beats of her thundering heart – dragon-green. “I want to play, too.”

Evie smirks and slides back up Mal's body, her nightdress caressing all the places she's made sensitive. “And what will you do with me, Dragon?”

Mal tugs Evie’s nightdress upward, revealing Evie’s smooth stomach. “I think I'll set you on fire,” she murmurs, before claiming Evie's lips in a blazing kiss that tastes like sex and her.

Evie whimpers and moves her touch back to Mal’s breast, squeezing it in rhythm to the bucks of Mal's body.

Mal smooths Evie’s stomach with her fingertips, exploring the curves and dips of Evie’s skin, making Evie gasp into their kiss.

But Mal needs more skin to explore.

And Evie is wearing way too many clothes.

Clothes which conceal everything. Like her breasts, hidden beneath the fabric of her gown. Mal wants to touch them, too.

_Need to._ She moans as Evie’s fingers clench-and-release her breast. Clench-and-release. _Need to touch._

So she breaks the kiss. And tugs again on Evie’s nightgown. “Off,” she breathes the command against Evie’s lips.

Evie springs up onto her knees. Her lips swollen, her cheeks flushed, her eyes smoldering and swallowed by her pupils, she obeys. She lifts the gown and tosses it to the floor, exposing her naked skin.

But all Mal sees is breasts.

Evie’s perfect breasts.

Evie’s springy breasts.

Breasts sloping down from shoulders.

Breasts peaked with pink nipples.

Mal’s fingers flutter upward to cup Evie’s breasts. So round. So smooth. So soft.

She feathers them with her fingers, making Evie whimper.

She smooths her thumbs over the nipples, making Evie gasp.

She squeezes them, making Evie breathe her name. “Mal. That feels good.”

Warmth dances through Mal’s heart. Pleasure dances through Mal’s belly.

Breasts. So warm. So squeezable. So kissable.

_Need to kiss._ Mal flicks her gaze to Evie’s half-lidded, melted-chocolate stare. 

As if sensing Mal’s intentions, Evie moans and tilts her breasts closer to Mal.

Holding tight to Evie’s gaze, Mal pushes herself backward onto her elbows. And claims a nipple for her mouth. 

She warms the tip with flicks of her tongue, tasting hints of salt and tart strawberry. Almost as if Evie bathed herself in the fruit while Mal was in the bathroom.

“Yes.” Evie arches her back and pushes her breast further into Mal’s mouth. “Ohh, yes. Mal.”

Mal moans and suckles, savoring the sounds of Evie’s shallowed breath and the _yes_ -es and _Mal_ s pouring from her lips.

But the other breast is lonely. So Mal kisses the tip of the one in her mouth, before leaving it coated in her saliva, which she cools with a blow of her breath. And then she pushes the other breast onto her tongue, suckling again, tasting more hints of strawberry.

Evie’s breaths turn into gasps. She collapses atop Mal, her breast in Mal’s mouth.

Still suckling, Mal falls backward onto the bed, searching for more places to touch. The curve of Evie’s back, which she traces with her fingernails. The curve of Evie’s hips, which she kneads with her fingers. The curve of Evie’s ass, which she squeezes in her palms, finding it smooth and soft and bare. _Bare._ Completely naked to Mal’s touch.

Evie isn’t wearing any panties.

Evie is naked.

Evie is naked and moaning and rocking her bare hips against Mal’s stomach.

Sparks rocket through Mal’s belly, flaring lower into sensitive places. Sensitive places where pressure coalesces like wet waves of heat. Wet waves like ocean waves, reminding Mal of the beach, where she first slid her thigh between Evie’s legs and the sparks flared into an inferno. Similar to the sensation she felt when Evie kissed between her thighs.

She needs to feel that again. She needs to feel that with Evie feeling it, too. Twined together, like they’ve always been.

Mal pops Evie’s breast from her mouth. “Come here, baby.” She slides her hands to Evie’s hips and tugs, noticing as she does that the room dances with streams of blue-and-purple smoke. The colors of their soul bond, joined together on this morning when they will join.

Evie groans, but slides down until she is nose-to-nose with Mal. Their legs tangle together, and Evie locks onto Mal’s eyes with her moonlight-and-lightning-streaked gaze. “Everything okay?” The words are written in gasps.

Mal spells Evie’s lips with kisses, turning her gasps into mewls. “I want to try something.”

“Mmm.” Evie’s strawberry breath spills across Mal’s lips. “What do you want to try?”

“Just move with me.” Mal smooths her fingers across Evie’s hips.

Evie shivers. “Okay.”

Mal treats herself to another deep kiss of strawberries-and-cream, sliding her tongue into Evie’s waiting mouth. And then she slides her thigh between Evie’s waiting legs and accepts Evie’s thigh between her own.

She rocks her hips, pressing her center again and again into Evie’s thigh. Sparks flare into flames. Waves wash through her belly. She gasps and her eyes turn back to molten green.

Evie moans and rocks her hips, too. Her center is slick and hot against Mal’s skin. “Is this…?” She claims Mal’s dragon gaze. “Are we…?”

_Having sex._ She doesn’t have to speak the words. They exist between them both, a living truth.

Mal rocks faster. “It feels like it. Oh, fuck.” She grips Evie’s hips, pressing her closer. “Don’t stop, E.”

“Not…” Evie closes her eyes. “Mmm, Mal. Not gonna stop.” Her forehead falls forward onto Mal’s shoulder, but she rocks faster, too.

The mattress squeaks beneath them. 

Their headboard bangs against the wall. 

A mantra explodes through Mal’s mind: _I’m having sex. I’m really having sex. With Evie. I’m really having sex with Evie._

Blue-and-purple smoke explodes through the room. 

Blue-and-purple energy explodes through Mal’s body, almost as if her magic is pulsing through her veins, preparing her for a fight. 

But this is no fight. For everything wicked, this is no fight at all.

Evie’s heart races through Mal’s ears. Ta-tump. Ta-tump. Ta-tump.

Mal’s heart races through Mal’s chest. Ta-tump. Ta-tump. Ta-tump.

“Evie.” A sigh, a moan, a cry meaning _more_ and _you feel so good_ and _I-love-you-I-love-you-I-love-you-so-fucking-much._ “Evie.” _More-more-more._

__“Mal.” Evie’s cry is husky and throaty and full of _yes-yes-yes_ and _never-gonna-stop_ and _I-love-you-I-love-you-I-love-you-too_. “Oh fuck, M.” She presses her lips into the crook of Mal’s neck, sinking her teeth into skin.

Mal cries out and rakes her fingernails across Evie’s hips. The flames within her belly flare into an inferno. Waves of pleasure wash over her again and again and again.

The blue-and-purple smoke twines around them both. The blue-and-purple energy in Mal’s blood fills her with pure electricity.

Mal’s pleasure spikes. Spikes as though it is doubling. Double the inferno, double the waves. 

And suddenly, Mal isn’t just feeling waves of pleasure. 

Waves of liquid seep beneath her skin, as though the ocean is washing through her blood. She tastes its salt; she hears the crash of its waves. 

Droplets of rain scatter across her face, beading together with droplets of sweat. 

Evie’s power is twining with her own.

Mal cries out again, gripping tight to Evie’s hips. “I feel you, E. I feel your water power. I feel everything.”

Evie picks up her head and meets Mal’s wild gaze. “I feel you, too. I feel your fire.” Evie’s eyes blaze green.

Mal gasps. “Your eyes. They’re green like mine.”

Evie clenches her lip between her teeth. “So intense. You’ve no idea. So intense.”

But Mal knows. Because she feels it, too. Fire sparking through her blood, mixed with the cool crest of waves. And pleasure. So much pleasure.

They rock their hips and rock them and rock them. And the pleasure crests and crests and crests.

The blue-and-purple smoke twists and twines around them both, cradling them in their own power. And then it explodes in a flash of light, and it is not smoke at all.

It is fire.

It is water.

Fire that flickers and flares and twines around their skin, keeping them safe within its hot, fierce force.

Water that balances Fire’s heat, lapping and curling around their bodies with its cool, protective shield.

The pleasure peaks within Mal’s body. “Evie. Oh fuck, E. I love you so much.” She shivers and she trembles and she shakes.

Evie shivers and trembles and shakes, too. “I love you. I love you. I love you.” She breathes the words between kisses, brushed across Mal’s lips.

White-hot heat, cresting through Mal’s core. White-hot heat, splashing over Mal’s skin, sprinkling up her spine. So intense. So intense, she swears she’s feeling more than just her own bliss.

And then Evie collapses into Mal’s arms. And the fire and the water fade.

But there’s a new sensation.

A sensation Evie must feel, too, because she lifts her head to gaze into Mal’s eyes, her own no longer a brilliant green, but molten brown and wild and wide. She slides her palm to the center of Mal’s chest. “Do you feel that?”

“I feel you.” Mal swallows hard. Smooths a tangled lock of blue behind Evie’s ear. “Evie, I can feel my skin beneath your hand.”

In the space between heartbeats, the world has doubled in size. Mal has picked up a new sense; a sense stretched beyond herself.

She feels her own skin, warm and slick with sweat, even though she is not touching it. 

And she feels the euphoria and wonder washing through Evie’s chest.

And she feels something more besides.

Beneath Evie’s palm, her own heart beats. But it doesn’t beat alone.

Evie’s heartbeat has joined Mal’s within Mal’s chest.

“Soul-bonded,” Evie whispers, feathering her fingers across Mal’s double heartbeats.

“Soul-bonded,” Mal whispers back. And she lifts her hand to Evie’s chest, where she feels her heart beating in tandem with Evie’s. 

Ta-tump. 

Ta-tump. 

Ta-tump.


	11. Chapter Eleven

* * *

****

**Indigo Kingdom [in-di-goh king-duhm, n.]** : A fictitious land sought by misguided souls and enemies of Auradon.

-Book of Dangerous Myths and Fantasies

* * *

The world is everything Evie. 

Evie’s arm curled around Mal’s waist.

Evie's fingertips dancing across Mal’s sweat-slicked skin. 

Evie’s ear atop Mal’s chest, pressed close to the thunder of Mal’s double-heartbeat. “Boom-boom,” she whispers, tapping the rhythm beneath Mal's breasts. “Boom-boom. Boom-boom.” 

A soft hum sounds from Mal’s throat. “Boom-boom,” she echoes, brushing kisses onto Evie’s tangled blue waves. 

Twin sensations press against Mal’s palm: the slick warmth of her own skin beneath Evie’s hand, and the silken wonder of Evie’s hair threaded through her fingers. _Soul-bonded._ “Everything feels so different. Can you believe it?”

“With us, anything is believable.” Evie kisses the curve between Mal’s breasts. “Well, except…” She raises up onto her elbows. “…I can’t believe we just had sex.”

Evie’s eyes are molten, liquid gold. Shining so bright, they melt warmth into Mal’s chest.

She lifts up to nuzzle Evie’s nose. “I can. It was always meant to be you.” _Even before I realized all my crazy feelings were love._ She falls back onto her pillow, her gaze still molded with Evie’s. “I love you.”

“Mmm.” Evie claims one of Mal’s hands. “I love you, too.” She lifts Mal’s hand to her lips. “My beautiful lightning-heart.”

An air-conditioned breeze wafts through their room, playing with the candled flames and sprinkling Mal’s skin with goose bumps.

She shivers, both from the breeze and from Evie’s delicate kiss. “Lightning-heart?”

“Mhmm.” Evie nods, a smile spelling itself onto the corners of her lips. “Do you like it?”

Early morning sunlight streams in through the windowpanes, highlighting Evie’s features. Turning them goddess-golden.

She's absolutely beautiful.

 _And somehow, absolutely mine._ “I like anything you call me.” Mal cups her gorgeous girlfriend's face. “But why lightning-heart?”

Evie’s smile is magicked with secrets. She sits up, the sheets tucked beneath her arms, and lifts her hand, gazing at the tips of her fingers. “Lightning happens when it rains.” Droplets of water form upon her fingertips. “So water. Me.” She holds out her palm, allowing the water to drip onto her hand like raindrops. “And lightning is associated with fire. Which is you.” She snaps her fingers. Electricity crackles above the raindrops. Fire magic.

Mal pulls back a breath. The fusion of their magic crackles through her blood. A spark of heat, the promise of flame, combined with the cool splash of ocean waves, awash beneath her skin.

The droplets sprinkle onto Evie’s palm.

But Mal’s hand cools as well, droplets of water forming upon her skin. “Is this…?”

“It’s us, M. Fire and rain. Lightning.” Evie moves her rain-slicked palm to Mal’s chest, atop the thundering of Mal’s heart. “And then there's heart. Because of our double-heartbeat. So lightning-heart.”

And it isn’t just Mal’s heart that’s glowing; every particle of her glows with electricity so potent, it must be lightning.

The world is new. Alight with golden rays of sun, streaming through their windows, sprinkling across their rumpled bedsheets and highlighting their joined bodies, which glisten with sweat.

And alight with so much more.

What once was confined is now limitless. She is no longer confined to her own body, but unlimited by new senses. The feel of her skin, warm beneath Evie’s hand. The sight of her face, flushed pink _(too pink)_ and beaded with sweat, but luminous and beautiful in Evie’s shimmering golden eyes. The sensation of the ocean tide, rippling beneath her skin, and the spark of flame, scorching through her blood.

And emotion. So much emotion.

Mal is no longer one heart, but two.

Evie is no longer one heart, but two.

Two hearts which beat in tandem forevermore, united by their soul-bond.

A bond Mal will protect with every beat of her double-hearts.

She palms the hand Evie has placed upon her chest. “We should practice, E. In the dreamscape. So we can be sure we’re ready for tonight.”

Evie’s eyes darken. “You want to go back into my nightmare.” The gold splinters and clouds over with a brown so dark, it’s almost black. “Now?"

The word _now_ is charged with emotion. Electrified with everything they are, everything they’ve been in the space of the last few hours.

But Mal’s lightning-heart is electrified with everything they’ll become. She will _not_ let some end-of-the-world threat destroy her future with Evie. 

She sits up, cradling Evie’s hand to her chest. “The beast we’re facing tonight lives inside your dreams, E. Now that we have our magic, we have to practice.”

Evie breathes in deep, closing her eyes at Mal’s touch. “I know we do.” She toys with her fingers, with the moisture beaded along her skin. 

"E?"

A shadow flits across Evie’s face, a spasm of emotion.

A spasm that solidifies into resolve. “I know, M. I know it's you. And it's me. I know we've got this.” She nods, assuring herself. “We’ve got magic. And each other.”

“And our bond.” Mal’s voice is soft and deep, a lullaby of promises. “There isn’t anything that can beat us. Monster or beast.”

Evie’s eyes snap open. “Villain or foe.” Her gaze is soulful.

“Villain or foe,” Mal echoes, and tugs on Evie’s hand. “Come on, Princess. Let’s enter the world of nightmares together.”

Evie falls back onto their pillows. She stares into Mal’s eyes, their gazes fusing into the pathways that have taken them on so many dreamscape journeys. "I'll always protect you, M. I promise." Her features harden and edge. With ferocity. With Isle menace. “Even in my nightmares.”

“We’ll turn them into dreams,” Mal whispers, squeezing Evie’s hand.

Evie squeezes back. “Damn right we will,” she murmurs, her eyes blinking shut. "Into my world then."

“Whatever may come.” Mal’s eyes blink shut, too. 

But her pathway with Evie lingers. 

Lingers in the double-heartbeats, rhythming inside her chest. 

Lingers in their joined breaths, soft beneath her nose, warm against her lips. 

Lingers in the fusion of their magic, electricity buzzing between them both. But not to separate. Not to shield one from the other.

 _No._ Mal’s mind empties and warms. _It’s enclosing us. Keeping us together. Like a cocoon of lightning._

The world spins through landscapes, the images bordered by silver streaks of electricity.

A night sky of blue-and-purple stars. So close, they flash before Mal’s eyes. 

A sapphire lake painted purple by the moon. The scent of fresh water splashes through Mal’s nose.

Cobblestoned streets vibrant with lavender-leaved trees. Rain drips from blue branches, caressing the stone beneath Mal’s feet.

The landscapes blur and become one. A single world, so different from any Mal has ever seen.

A kingdom crafted from sapphire stone. A sapphire castle shimmering in the blue-and-purple starlight. A waterfall tumbling beneath the glow of the amethyst moon. The crash of water, cascading into the purple-moonlit lake.

Mal lands on her bare feet, clothed in the leather of a warrior.

A purple breastplate guards her double-hearted chest, and on her legs are pants so stretchy, they make her movements more nimble.

She prances about in a circle, testing the fabric. Her feet spring upon the cobblestones like a panther's paws. “What is this place, E? And why am I wearing armor?”

Evie wears armor, too, only hers is blue leather. "It's like we've been claimed as warriors," she murmurs, fingering the softness of her leather pants. “M, this is the Indigo Kingdom. I’ve only ever heard about it in my mother’s stories.”

“The Indigo Kingdom?” Mal gazes across a castle courtyard. _Definitely not a graveyard._ “But we’re supposed to be inside your nightmares.”

The courtyard is bespelled by light. The sapphire stones glow, illuminating the cobblestones with a brilliant blue shine.

In the center of everything, there is a door. A door arching toward the heavens, where stars flicker in differing shades of purple and blue, casting radiance down upon the door’s many symbols. Symbols which speak to Mal in a strange sort of language, almost as if she’s spoken it herself in some far-off dream-turned-nightmare.

Mal’s skin prickles. Prickles like a million shards of glass are scratching across its surface.

Her throat prickles, too. Prickles as though the symbols are scratching themselves into odd shapes inside her flesh.

This is no nightmare.

This is an escape into another world. A world built from the nightmarish elements of dreams.

Evie strides toward the door. “I don’t know how we’re here. It’s been hidden for decades.” She lifts her hand toward the knob. 

A flash of blue flares from the door, lashing out at Evie’s hand.

Evie cries out and jumps backward.

An electric jolt bites into Mal’s palm. “Don’t touch anything, E. We don’t really know where we are.”

Evie massages her hand. “But I do. I do know.” She whirls to face Mal. “This is my grandmother’s kingdom.”

“Your grandmother’s kingdom?” The words trail from Mal’s lips, slow pieces of sound. She gazes out at the kingdom, at its wonders, at its tools. _I’ve never seen anything like this._

The fountain trickles not with water, but with ethereal blue electricity. The current spirals upward toward the stars, and back down again into the fountain mouth. A never-ending loop. 

The fountain’s energy is so potent, it creates a ripple in the air. A ripple that washes warmth across Evie’s skin – and so across Mal’s soul-bonded skin, too. 

It is so warm, so vibrant, it tempts Mal to reach out. To touch the blue lightning cascading toward the stars. 

She stretches her finger toward the current. 

And Evie catches her hand. “No, don’t.” She laces their fingers. “This fountain contains magic from thousands. Witches. Sorceresses. Fae. Mother used to say that she who touches it, vaporizes into pure energy.”

 _Right. So no touching then._ Mal’s hand spasms in Evie's grip.

Something doesn't make sense.

“I don’t understand, E. Your grandmother ruled this kingdom? And your mother knows of it? Why didn’t she ever rule it?”

“She was banished by my grandmother.” Evie massages Mal’s hand, stroking it with her fingertips. “Grandmother was concerned Mother would use the magic she’d collected for her own evil ends. And," she says, her voice hollowing out, going distant, “maybe because my grandmother became part of true evil the night she made that potion - you know, the one that created the tainted - and was afraid my mother would follow in her footsteps.” 

A cold wind washes through the courtyard, dousing Mal in chills.

“In her…” Mal’s breath sticks in her throat. “Wait. Evie, your grandmother. She created that potion? She’s the sorceress from our vision?”

“She is.” Evie tosses her head, freeing her eyes of renegade waves of blue. “Told you, M. We’re completely connected.”

Mal pulses her hand around Evie’s fingers. “We always have been.”

Evie gifts Mal a smile so warm, it slips inside, chasing away Mal's chills.

“Anyway," Evie says, returning her gaze to the fountain, "Grandmother was once evil. Like Mother. But something happened that caused her to dedicate herself to protecting magic. Even if it meant banishing her own daughter.” 

_She created the tainted._ Mal stumbles a step closer to the fountain. The electrical current seems to course through her blood. It’s a part of her in a way indescribable. “So that’s it. My mother and your grandmother. They created those monsters – and their actions led to our bond. And somehow made us both a part of this lost kingdom.”

“I think you're right.” Evie tugs Mal backward, away from the fountain. “Not so close, M. Come on.” She leads Mal toward the doorway, with its glass-cut carvings. “Do you recognize these symbols?”

Again, Mal stretches out her finger. She needs to touch this world; needs to feel the pulse of magic beneath her fingertip. It seems the only way to diminish the pulse of magic rushing through her blood.

But one touch of the door, and the pulse amplifies, a thundering heartbeat beneath her skin. “Fuck.” She drops her hand.

“Oh, M.” Evie curls Mal into her trembling arms. “You really have to stop touching things.”

Mal narrows her eyes, glaring at the doorway. “Not my fault. They want to be touched. I swear, E. It’s like they’re calling out for me.”

“Of course they are.” Evie sways with Mal through the courtyard, dancing with her toward the amethyst waterfall. Away from the fountain and the door. “You know what this place is, right? What that doorway is?”

The amethyst waterfall emits a cool breeze, caressing Mal’s skin. Soothing the pulse of magic. Diminishing the heartbeat.

Mal melts into Evie’s arms. “What is it?”

“It’s us,” Evie whispers into her ear. “Look around, lightning-heart. Look at the colors. And the symbols on the doorway. They’re crafted from the language of sorceresses – and the language of fae.”

Mal casts her gaze around the courtyard. A courtyard where a door shines not just with sapphire light, but with amethyst. Where the stars glow in Mal-and-Evie shades. Where even the current in the fountain seems to contain a touch of purple.

“Okay.” She pushes strands of purple from her face. “But, Evie. If this place is _us,_ then why does it keep trying to attack me?”

Evie squeezes Mal, once, twice, then breaks away from their embrace. She circles back to the doorway, where the glow of light splashes across her features. And then to the fountain, where the spiral of energy flickers outward, as if beckoning her into its orbit.

She puckers her lips and frowns. “I think,” she says, her voice whisper-soft, “we’re meant to learn its secrets. But first, we have to learn our own. Like with our magic.” 

“What do you mean?”

Evie whirls back toward Mal, her leather armor stretching with her movements. She's a warrior, prepared for battle. “Well, it hurt at first. Right? Our magic. Until we learned how to harness its power. I think we have to figure out our soul-bond before we can use the gifts offered in this courtyard.”

Mal shakes her head. “What gifts?”

“Don’t you feel them?" Evie holds out her hands. "They’re all around us.”

Denial springs to Mal’s tongue, but she swallows it away. There’s a promise in the air. A promise flowing from the fountain. A promise locked behind the door. Whatever caused Evie’s grandmother – the creator of the tainted – to create this kingdom, too, something about it is linked to Evie and to Mal. To them both.

 _We just have to figure out what it is._ Mal steps closer to the lake, awash with purple water. She dips her toe into the water, and it pools around her foot, cool and clear. “So how do we master our bond?”

Evie gazes past the courtyard, into the world beyond.

A world dappled with blue trees topped with lavender leaves. The trees grow thicker and thicker, coalescing into a forest creeping with shadows. 

And before that forest, a few feet away, there stands another door.

But this door is not etched with symbols.

It does not glow with light.

It is plain and brown, an arched door of wood.

“I think it’s the beginning,” Evie says, walking toward the door. “We don’t need to read any symbols or master our bond. We simply need to open it.”

“Wait.” Mal catches Evie’s arm, pulling her back a step. “How do we know it’s safe?”

Evie worries her bottom lip between her teeth. “Well,” she says, twisting her mouth one way and then the other, “I guess it’s a good thing we can’t die in dreams.” She pulls her arm away and moves once more for the door.

“Evie!” Mal lunges again for Evie’s arm.

But Evie’s already touching the doorknob. Twisting it. Opening the door.

A flare of silver lightning flashes through the courtyard.

Energy courses across Mal’s arms, making the hairs stand on-end.

Laughter echoes from every corner. Echoes as if crossing between worlds. It is giddy. Unrestrained. Childlike.

“Where is that coming from?” Mal rubs at her arms and forces her feet toward the wooden doorway.

The doorway where Evie stands, gazing not into a forest, but into an inky abyss. 

Mal touches Evie’s shoulder. “What’s out there, E?”

“I don’t know.” Her voice is a dip of sound, a whisper of nerves.

A clashing contrast to the girlish voice that bounces through the realms. “Come on!” It calls, as giddy as its owner’s laughter. “I’m waiting.”

Evie’s soul-bonded heart springs into Mal’s soul-bonded throat. “M, who do you think…?”

A child dances into the doorway. A little girl with a tangle of starry curls and eyes so black, they appear crafted from the midnight sky. A grin crescents across her face, shining an ethereal light. “You’re taking too long.” She waggles her finger at Mal and Evie. “You’ll wake up soon, you know.”

“Um…” Evie swallows.

“Well…” Mal takes Evie’s hand, lacing their fingers back together.

The child bounces on the balls of her feet, giggling. There’s something off about her laughter; something otherworldly and dark. It crashes together like a clattering carriage struck by a car, or thunder during the heaviest rains.

Mal’s stomach twists. _Maybe we made it into Evie’s nightmare after all._ She swallows. “So I guess we have two options. We can stand here, gaping at the creepy star-child. Or we can follow her into the abyss and figure out what in Lucifer’s hell all this means.”

“Careful, M.” Evie tightens her grip around Mal’s fingers. “We just might be stepping into Lucifer’s hell.”

Goose bumps speckle Mal’s skin. But, her hand still locked with Evie's, she takes a step closer to the doorway. “You heard what she said, E.” She places her foot on the threshold. “We’re gonna wake up soon.”

“Sooner than soon.” The star-child prances about in a circle, flapping her arms. Her motions are blurry, ghost-like. “Come on, come on, come on.”

Evie trembles on a breath. “Okay. Let's jump.” She steps up beside Mal, so that they’re both standing at the threshold of hell. “But we do it together. On the count of three.”

Mal nods. “One,” she says, the word sticky in her throat.

“Two,” Evie whispers, her voice hoarse, her fingers shaky.

A heartbeat, a breath. And then: “Three!”

They cry it out together, and then jump hand-in-hand into the darkness.

“Bye-bye,” cries the star-child, who fades into the abyss. Once gone, her voice echoes back, nothing more than a whisper of wind: “See you soon.”

Mal shivers. _Or not._

A thought she cannot speak, because she and Evie are spiraling through a tunnel of images. Scenes, rushing up to meet them.

They tumble through a tornado of memories.

Maleficent. _Mother._ Older now. A teenager. Standing atop a castle tower, her arms outstretched, black lightning flickering between her hands, rising upward from the ground.

But Mal doesn't have a chance to gaze at Mother long.

She and Evie are tossed again through the abyss, in a topsy-turvy whirlwind which shoots them at the cobblestoned ground.

Cobblestones holding a tsunami of slaves, who toss together as if victims to a raging sea. _So many. So many more than in the first vision._ Their bodies are wasted. Energy drains from their flesh in thick black cords.

The sky flashes molten. Rain breaks from the clouds. Thunders down upon Mother, upon the slaves. 

Mal whips her gaze up toward Mother.

Mother, who cackles and quirks her fingers, drawing the energy faster.

As if Mal and Evie are summoned by Mother’s finger-quirks, they are tossed back into the topsy-turvy twirl of wind, which propels them onto the roof.

Mal grips Evie’s hand and plants her feet, scowling into the abyss. _Toss us again, and I’ll puncture you._

There’s a flash of silver lightning, and a force solidifies around Mal and Evie.

They are not tossed again.

Evie gasps. “Look, M. It’s my grandmother.”

The blue-haired sorceress rises through the sky, aboard a wave of rain. “You foolish fairy! Stop. You’ll kill them all.” She lands on the castle roof, silver flashing in her eyes.

Mother’s eyes flash, too. Flash dragon-green. “You promised me power, Guinevere. I’m taking it all.”

The sorceress thrusts her hand toward the heavens. “I will not allow you to tip the scales between good and evil, Maleficent.” A silver streak of lightning flashes into her hand. She grips hold, wielding it like a sword. “We need balance in this world.”

Mother sneers and flicks her hand, tossing a cascade of black sparks. The sparks coalesce, flaring into a wall of black fire. Shielding Mother from the sorceress. “Shoulda thought of that when you created the potion, dearie. Too late now.” She bares her teeth and pushes her hands toward the slaves.

The slaves scream. Scream and thrash. Their energy fires outward, flaring up at Mother.

Mother closes her eyes and hums, her body quaking with the overload.

The sorceress battles with the flames. Throws rain on the fire.

It smokes and lashes out, striking at her face.

She cries a throaty cry and thrusts up her hand. “Carry me there, Rain. I call upon you.”

The rain cascades down in a liquid slide. The sorceress jumps atop. Rides the rain above the black flames, twisting toward Mother. With her lightning sword secure within her fist, she slices the blade into the black cords.

The cords disintegrate.

Mother shrieks.

The slaves crumple to the ground. 

But one slave – a slave with eyes as black as death – rises to his feet. Coils his lips into a bloodthirsty smirk. And latches his gaze onto Mal and Evie. “Hello, bonded!” he calls, a cheerful greeting that crystalizes like ice through Mal’s blood. “Come to practice your new skills?”

Evie tenses. Clutches Mal’s hand.

The scenes disintegrate. Break apart like shards of glass, scattering through the abyss. Striking out at Mal and Evie. Slicing at their hands, their arms, their faces.

Pain. Soul-searing pain. Sharp, like swords cutting through their flesh.

Mal shrieks.

Hot tears liquify in Evie's eyes.

The world is empty and dark. There is Evie. There is Mal.

And there is _him._ The tainted rises up in the darkness, chortling laughter, the rattle of death. “Well, come on.” His voice booms through the blackness. A blackness created by the shadows of so many trees, clumped together like creatures who claw out with their sticks-for-hands. “Practice your craft, bonded. Though I should warn you. The dreamscape works differently than the real world.”

The pain seeps inside, tearing at their souls. Cutting them open, luring them into another kind of darkness.

Flashes of memory burn through Mal’s mind, searing her like blistering flame. The time she locked Evie in a closet of bear traps. And when she tried to get Evie to steal the scepter. And every time she pretended she did not care about the girl gripping her hand.

Each of her mistakes with Evie, exposed.

Evie trembles, shivering in Mal’s embrace. “No, Mother,” she whispers, jerking. “Invite Mal. You have to. You can’t leave her out…”

The tainted’s laughter hollows into hisses. “What’s wrong, bonded? Remembering every time you weren’t?”

His voice is thick with triumph.

 _You fucking bastard._ Dangling in the abyss, Mal forces herself to stop shaking. To turn and face Evie. She grips Evie’s other hand, holding them both. “E, look at me. Look at me, Evie. I’m right here.”

Evie snaps open her eyes. “M?” Her voice quakes.

“That’s right.” Mal pulses her fingers around Evie’s hands. “Your best friend. Your lover. Your bonded. We can do anything together, remember?”

“Yeah,” Evie croaks, nodding. And then she blinks. And her gaze intensifies, claiming Mal’s. “Yeah.” Her voice is stronger, so much stronger. She clenches her fingers into Mal’s hand. “So let’s kill this son of a bitch.”

Mal grins the grin of a wicked fae. “That’s my girl.” She squeezes Evie’s hands, a final pulse, and then let’s go.

Evie’s heart thunders through Mal’s chest in rhythm with her own. 

Mal embraces the warmth of both, pooling her energy into that double-heartbeat. Seeking out the purple-and-blue glow of their soul-bonded energy. Finding it in the space between their hearts. 

She pushes it outward. Soothing her aches. Healing the damage done by the shattering images. Her skin knits and seals.

Warmth. So much warmth.

The tainted’s hisses become growls. “What are you doing? How did you break my spell?” He stalks toward them, baring his fangs. “I command you to –”

“This bastard needs to shut the fuck up.” Evie’s voice is a growl, too. A growl that echoes through the abyss, sprinkling shivers up Mal’s spine.

The energy that exists between them both flares, and Mal knows what Evie will do before she does it.

Evie thrusts up her hand. “Be good to me, rain,” she cries.

The world flashes.

The trees disappear, leaving only darkness.

And through that darkness slices a bolt of lightning, streaking into Evie's fist.

“That’s my girl,” Mal shouts.

The tainted lunges at Mal.

Mal whirls away.

Evie whirls into Mal’s space and slices outward with her bolt, slashing the tainted across the chest.

The tainted screams and lunges at Evie’s unprotected side.

Evie whirls away.

Mal whirls into her space, summoning fire into her palm. With Evie’s water still lapping beneath her skin, the flames become steam. She claps her steaming hands around the tainted’s throat, singeing his flesh. “The bonded say fuck off,” she growls into the creature’s ear, savoring his shrieks. “Now, E!”

Evie whirls back into the tainted’s space and stabs her bolt into the creature’s chest, striking his heart.

A gasp ghosts from the creature’s wilted lips. It spasms. Spasms and jerks. And then its body disintegrates, crumbling into shards of midnight.

Evie and Mal cry out. Their eyes lock. Their gazes gleam. “We did it,” they say in unison.

And then the world tilts. The darkness fades. Purple-and-blue smoke wafts through the dreamscape.

Mal has just enough time to claim Evie’s hand, linking it with her own, before the dream dissolves and they land back in bed.

Their heartbeats are thunderous.

They lay face-to-face, side-by-side, hand-within-hand. Their armor is gone. They are no longer warriors. They are just them, skin-to-skin. Naked. And vulnerable. And alive.

Mal’s body thrums with new life, as if she has somehow been reborn.

Evie’s body thrums with new life, as if she has somehow been reborn.

Mal feels it all.

Evie slides her finger along Mal’s cheek. “I feel everything about you, M. Even more than before.”

Mal slides her fingers along Evie’s hand. “I knew exactly what you were going to do, E. It felt like…”

“Like we were one?” A silver streak dances through Evie’s eyes. Lightning. Fire. And water. And them.

“Yeah.” Mal clasps their joined hands to her chest, sheltering their double-heartbeats. “We were still two people, but…” She tastes her lips, folding them into her mouth. “Joined.”

“I know.” Evie’s voice is a breath, soft against Mal’s skin. “I felt it, too.”

Silence unfolds, an invisible veil. Sheltering them in their invisible world.

The sun streams through their windows, turning their world golden.

The clock on their bedside table ticks time. 6:57. Not even time to wake up.

Evie rolls onto her back and lifts her hands, twiddling her fingers. Her mouth curves downward into a frown.

“What are you doing?” Mal whispers, stroking Evie’s leg with her toes, hip to ankle.

Evie shivers and scoots a little closer. “It’s tonight, M. The fiftieth moon. We know we can stand up against the tainted. But I want to know more.” Droplets of water form above her fingertips, then coalesce into a clear and glistening orb. “I always see better in the water’s reflection.”

Mal rests her cheek on Evie’s shoulder. “Trying to tell the future?”

“Trying to see what’s going to happen tonight.” Evie flits her fingers, making the orb spin.

Mal’s face is reflected in the water. Hair tangled. Lips chewed up from kisses. Skin aglow.

Evie’s face is reflected in the water, too. Her eyes blaze. “All I see is a moon.” Her frown deepens. “And creatures, creeping from trees.”

Mal gazes into the orb. It is only water.

 _Trees…_

Images flicker through her mind. 

The tainted. Pinning her to the dirt. Stealing her blood. Breaking her bones. Robbing her magic. 

Mal's blood turns to ice. She shifts in the sheets and forces her mind onto other images, other memories.

Evie, saving her life. A sword-wielding sorceress.

Her friends, rushing into the clearing.

And Dude. Dude, who claimed the trees have fangs.

Mal jolts upright, causing the sheets to fall to her waist. Her breasts are exposed, but she does not care. _The trees. They were in the dream, too. And in Evie's graveyard nightmares._ “Evie, it’s gotta be the school forest. It’s felt creepy ever since that night.”

Evie snaps her fingers and the water dissolves, disappearing into tiny droplets. “The tainted are after magic. Nature has its own kind of magic.” She stares toward the windows, where the world seems just a bit darker than before, the sunlight muted. “They might be living off the trees until…”

 _Until they can feast off of something –_ someone _– else._ Mal collapses back onto the bed. “So that’s it. Tonight. The forest. We attack anything that crawls out of the trees.”

“What I don’t understand,” Evie says, flipping back onto her side, meeting Mal’s gaze, “is why they haven’t done it before now.”

“I guess we’ll find out.” Mal’s voice is an echo of sound.

“Yeah. I guess so.”

Evie’s breaths are shallow. They burn her throat, and so they burn Mal’s, too.

Mal’s stomach is slippery. It slides this way and that, iced over with nerves.

They need to tell people about this. Jay. Carlos. Ben.

They need to raise an army.

But for now, all Mal wants is to get lost in Evie. To learn all of her secrets. All her curves. All the places that make her sigh and moan.

She wants to devour her. Devour her until all that’s left is Mal, and all that’s left is Evie, and all that’s left is _them,_ safe from the dangers lurking just outside their windows. Sheltered within their cocoon of lightning.

Mal shifts closer and brushes Evie’s lips with a kiss. “Let’s just forget for a few minutes. Okay, baby?” She gathers Evie’s waist, pulling her closer, too. “Let’s tangle ourselves in these sheets. And lose ourselves in each other.”

Outside their window, the murmur of voices drifts up from the school courtyard.

Inside their room, the murmur of their joined breaths is really all Mal hears.

Evie’s eyes cloak themselves beneath her lashes, half-hooded. “What are you suggesting, Mal-of-Mine?”

Mal claims another kiss, this one lingering. “I still haven’t had my taste,” she whispers, tracing her fingertip between Evie’s breasts.

Evie whimpers and melts beneath Mal's touch. “Then taste me you shall.” She slides closer and claims Mal's lips, deepening this kiss with a touch of her tongue.

Mal sighs into the kiss.

And three sharp raps echo from their door.

Mal stiffens. And groans.

A sound echoed by Evie. “They’ll go away.” She slides her fingers through Mal's hair. “You promised a taste.” She reclaims Mal’s kiss.

Mal smirks. _Can’t break a promise to a princess._

She moves her hand to Evie’s breast, squeezing it in her palm, and traces her lips to Evie’s throat, suckling her pulse point. Tasting sweat and salt and remnants of strawberry.

Evie moans, a sound throaty and loud.

And three sharp raps echo from their door.

“Mal, come on!” Ben’s words rush together, punches of sound. “I know you’re in there. I can hear you. Well, I can hear Evie. But I know you’re there, too.”

Mal’s face flushes with warmth. _Damn it, Ben._ She abandons Evie’s pulse point and seeks out Evie's gaze. “E, I'm pretty sure he's not just gonna give up…”

Evie lifts on her elbow and narrows her eyes at the door. “Is this typical ex-boyfriend behavior?”

“Of course not.” Mal nips at Evie’s jaw. “But since when do I date typical people?”

Evie sighs. “Good answer.”

“I thought so.” Mal winks and slips from the bed. “Don’t worry. I’ll make it quick.”

“You’d better.” Evie thumps her head against the pillow. 

Mal grins and gathers her robe. She slips into the purple silk, then ties the sash into a lazy, misshapen knot. 

Her hair is still in tangles, her lips still chewed up, well-kissed. She’s pretty sure Evie’s given-during-sex bite mark is still creased into her throat. Unless it somehow miraculously healed when she healed herself in their dream.

But Ben is being impatient.

So he’ll just have to deal.

 _Besides, maybe it’d be good if he figured it out._ Mal grabs the doorknob. _That way, he won’t ever come knocking again before we’re dressed._

 __She twists the knob and edges open the door, stepping into the narrow gap between door and wall. “What’s up, your majesty?” The greeting is bitter on her tongue.

Ben's stare is blood-shot and penetrating. “Mal.”

“Ben.” She folds her arms and stares into his eyes. _He wants to look at me like he knows a secret, I’ll stare right back._

But something changes in Ben’s eyes. They flare, his pupils dilating. “What the…” He reaches out, placing two fingers to the curve of Mal’s throat. “Did something bite you?”

 _Shit._ Mal grips Ben’s wrist, lowering his hand. “It's not-”

Evie’s breathless “Oh, fuck!” drifts through the room, followed by the squeak of the mattress and the frantic patter of footsteps.

“– what you think,” Mal finishes, stepping back when Ben tries again to touch her throat. “Really. It’s okay.”

“Not what I…” Ben shakes his head. “Mal, what could have possibly –”

“Hi, Ben.” Evie slips behind Mal and slides her silken-robe-covered arm around Mal’s waist. “Don’t worry about Mal. We’ve just, uh…” She places her chin onto Mal’s shoulder. “Um, we’ve…You know, we’ve been…”

 _What’s wrong, E?_ Mal leans into Evie’s arms. _Can’t think of an excuse that doesn’t involve the word ‘sex’?_

It doesn't matter.

The word is painted across Ben’s face in red-and-white blotches. “Right.” He pinches his nose between thumb and forefinger, covering his eyes. “Um, congratulations. I guess.”

 _Congrat – did he really just congratulate me?_ Mal’s face flares twice as hot – once for her own blush, once for Evie’s. “Ben –” __

“Is there something we can help you with, Ben?” Evie’s voice is smooth as their blue satin bed cover.

Mal makes a mental note to punish her later.

Ben drops his hand, unmasking his gaze. A gaze he directs not at Mal but at Evie. 

It’s a look so similar to the ones he’s given Evie since she helped Mal break his heart.

But different, too.

Darker.

Angrier.

More penetrating.

Evie tightens her arm around Mal’s waist. “You know I’d never hurt her. I love her.”

“Do you?” Ben stalks forward a single step.

And Mal holds up her hand. “Okay. Enough.” She pushes out at Ben’s chest, sending him backward into the hall. “What are you going to do, Ben? Throw down with my girlfriend while I’m standing right here?”

Ben drops his head, hiding his gaze beneath a fall of his hair. “I wasn’t going to _throw down._ ” His voice is as sullen as a five-year-old child’s.

Mal keeps herself between them both, her fingers curled into loose fists. “Wait for me in the room, E. I’ll just be a minute.”

Evie sighs, ruffling Mal’s hair with her breath. “Make it quick,” she whispers into Mal’s ear. “See you, Ben.”

Ben stares after her, his gaze snapping.

A few seconds later, Evie’s footsteps hush through the silence of their room, the only other sound the puff of Evie’s breath as she begins blowing out their candles. 

Ben rises on his tiptoes. “What’s she doing in there?”

 _Why the hell is he so focused on Evie?_ Mal snaps her fingers. “Hey.” She pushes two fingers, her pointer and her middle, outward toward Ben’s eyes, then swings them back toward her own. “Right here. Ben?”

Ben blinks at Mal.

“That’s right.” Mal slides her hand into the pocket of her robe. “Me now.”

The blotches on his face grow blotchier. “Sorry. I’m sorry.” He shoves a hand through his hair, which is almost as disheveled as Mal’s. “Uh.” He bites into his lip, bleeding white into the red. “I – I need you to come somewhere with me. Just you. Not Evie.”

Evie’s sigh is an echoing, irritated thing. “Of course he does.” Her whisper is not nearly as whispery as she may think.

The guarded glint in Ben’s eyes darkens. “It’s kingdom business,” he calls, his words pushing together again like punches. Punch, punch, punch. “And Mal’s still my lady. We haven’t made the announcement that – that, uh… that you’re having…” He waves his hand toward Mal’s door, the phrase _sex_ written into the tremble of his lips. 

Evie answers with the clatter of glass candle jars, clinking against a hardened surface.

Mal groans. _What are you gonna do, Ben? Go public with the fact that I’m sleeping with Evie?_ She steps into the hall and slams the door. “Okay, look. It’s never going to be okay for you to talk to her like that. She’s my girlfriend, Ben. I love her. And she loves me.”

Ben’s eyes cloud, turning stormy. “You loved me once, too. Remember?”

Mal tosses up her hands. “I still…” _care about you._ She grits her teeth. _No. He doesn’t get to hear that. Not with the way he’s acting._

“You still what?” Ben’s voice is slippery, wielded to lure forth secrets.

 _Nope. Not happening._ Mal narrows her eyes and scans Ben from head to foot. The tangles of his hair. The bloodshot streaks set within his eyes. The wrinkles etched into his suit. “Have you even slept? What’s going on with you?”

 __Throughout the hall, a few doors open. Kids step out. Stretch. Nod at each other. Glance at Mal, at Ben. Their lips part or their eyes widen or their eyebrows arch, and they hurry away.

Ben doesn’t notice. He’s too busy glaring at Mal’s closed door. “We need to talk. Away from here.”

 _Away from Evie._ He doesn’t need to speak the words; they’re scrawled in bold across the hardened angles of his face.

Mal collapses against her door and closes her eyes. “Why should I even trust you, with the way you’re acting?”

The sensation of a soft hand falls upon Mal’s shoulder. “Because I’ve always wanted what’s best for you, Mal. And despite everything that’s happened, that will never change.” Ben’s voice is soft, too, crafted from the emotion that’s always existed between them.

Mal opens her eyes to discover not the storm-cloud king, but the boy who once protected her heart. The hardened edges of his face have faded, the cutting corners of his scowl disappeared. In their place is a smile, warm and kind.

Mal palms Ben’s hand, cupping it to her shoulder.

She and Evie need his help.

They need him to raise the guard. To protect Auradon from the tainted.

To stand with them as they fight.

 _I guess this is my chance to convince him._ She feathers her fingers across his hand. “Okay. I’ll go. But we have to be quick.”

Ben deflates, as if Mal’s words have removed a leaden weight. “Thank you,” he whispers.

“Sure.” Mal reaches behind her for the doorknob. “Just let me get dressed.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” She opens the door to her room and discovers it half-transformed. Rose petals still sprinkle the floor and the rumpled blue silk bedspread. But the candles are unlit and line the desk in rows, like glass-jarred soldiers outside the line of fire.

Evie is curled in her sewing chair, staring at a glass of water.

“Baby?” Mal shuffles to her girlfriend.

Evie taps the glass. “I keep trying to see. But something’s blocking me.”

A purple petal sticks to Evie’s cheek, wafting with her breath.

“You’re tired.” Mal caresses Evie’s face, claiming the petal with her fingertip. “We just battled that demon in our dreams.”

“Maybe.” Evie leans into Mal.

“Mmm.” Mal threads her fingers through Evie’s hair, untangling the tangles. “I have to go with Ben, E. Convince him to raise an army.” Muted sunlight breaks through the window, shining almost-warmth upon Mal’s neck. She shivers in the chill. “You should talk to Jay and Carlos. Lonnie, too. We’re going to need their help.”

“And you?” Evie twists in her chair to face Mal. “Will you be okay with Ben?” There’s an edge of concern in her voice. “He’s acting really weird, M.”

Mal smirks. “I can take him.” But her smirk collapses at the look in Evie’s eyes. “Hey,” she whispers, sliding a strand of blue behind Evie’s ear. “It’s us. You and me. We’ve got this.”

Evie tilts her face into Mal’s hand. “Promise you’ll be back soon?”

Mal leans down to kiss the tip of Evie’s nose. “I swear.”

“Then hurry back to me, M.” Evie leans her forehead against Mal’s. “Because the sooner this is over, the sooner we can go back to being us.”

“We’ve always been us, E.” Mal’s voice is a whisper, a caress. “We always will be.” 

She holds Evie in her arms, two girls caught in a cataclysm of forever.

And then she lets go and steps toward her dresser, eager to collect her clothes and finish things with Ben.

“Wait,” Evie says, her chair squeaking as she stands.

Mal turns to face this girl who holds her heart. “What’s up?” She lifts a brow.

Evie’s eyes glisten with emotion. “Just want to remember.” She lifts her fingers, forming a square around Mal.

Mal’s double-hearts dance a waltz.

Because Evie isn’t just gazing at her.

Evie’s painting a picture. Sketching a memory.

So Mal sketches one, too. She releases a sigh and lifts her fingers, capturing Evie in the square between her forefingers and thumbs. _She’s gorgeous._ Lips puffy from kisses and hair wild with waves.

Mal’s throat thickens. _Is she really mine?_ “Yeah,” she says, her voice hoarse. “Me, too.” _I’ll always be hers._

They claim each other’s gazes, a million truths reflected within their stares.

And then Mal drops her hands and turns to her dresser, the memory of Evie still painted within her mind.


End file.
